


my best friend’s step dad

by Bellelaide



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: AU, Adultery, M/M, borderline questionable relationship, trent’s at school but he’s 18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 02:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19820218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellelaide/pseuds/Bellelaide
Summary: Trent can’t stay away from his best friend’s mum’s boyfriend (who just happens to be Jordan Henderson)





	my best friend’s step dad

Trent hadn’t expected to spend his Saturday night decorating sugar cookies, but there he was. 

Dominic had invited Trent round earlier that day, and Trent fully expected to go over and have drinks before going out clubbing somewhere. He’d turned up dressed to the nines, doused in his most expensive aftershave, wearing brand new shoes. Dominic looked him over in the doorway and grimaced. 

“We’re just having a quiet one,” he explained, blinking rapidly. “I made us cookies to decorate.” 

Trent’s face fell. “Oh. Okay?” 

Dominic held open the door and Trent came in, wiping his shoes on the mat. 

“Yeah. My mum and step dad are out at dinner. I said I’d stay in and watch the dogs.” 

“The dogs?” Trent scoffed, removing his coat. “Why do you need to watch the dogs?” 

Dominic rolled his eyes. “You know what my mum’s like. She babies them. Drives me and my step dad mad.” 

“How old’s he again, her boyfriend? Toy boy, isn’t he?” 

Dominic shoved Trent’s shoulder. “He’s 28. He’s only twelve years younger than her, hardly a toy boy.” 

“Only twelve? Fuck sake, Dom,” Trent scoffed. “Proper cougar your mum. Give her my number if it doesn’t work out.” 

“Shut the fuck up. C’mon, the cookies are ready to ice.” 

— 

It was actually kind of fun, Trent had to admit. They had a couple of beers whilst they worked and they just fucked about, decorating the biscuits and licking at the icing, nibbling jelly tots and talking shit about different girls in the town that they’d try to get with on New Year’s Eve. 

Three Bud Lights in Dominic thought it would be a good idea to start an icing fight. Trent was never one to back down in light of a challenge but he maybe took it too far - fifteen minutes later and Trent, Dominic and 3/4 of the kitchen were covered in icing, wet and dripping all over the fixtures. They were laughing and panting hard, frozen in a stalemate as there was no icing left to throw. Trent looked around slowly, so as not to spook Dominic, and his eyes settled on a packet of eggs. 

“No - “ Dominic hissed. Trent flicked open the lid of the eggs. “No!” 

Just then, they heard the sound of keys in the door. Trent dropped the egg and Dominic cursed, knowing he was in for a bollocking. 

“Dom! We’re back!” His mum called into the house. “It’s just us, sweetheart.” 

Neither of the boys bothered moving - there was nothing they could do at that point. They listened as the sound of Dominic’s mum’s heels clacked up the hallway, towards the kitchen. She came into view with a warm smile, beaming at Trent. 

“Trent, darling, how are - “ She froze in the doorway, taking in the state of the kitchen. “Oh my god. DOMINIC SOLANKE!” 

“I’m sorry!” He squeaked, pointing at Trent. “It was his idea!” 

Trent shot daggers at Dominic, but he didn’t need to defend himself - Dominic’s mum didn’t believe it for a second. “How dare you blame this on someone else. How old are you, you little twat?! Two years old?!” She jabbed a finger at him. “Get upstairs and get showered, then get down here and make this kitchen sparkle. I mean it, I better not see a lick of icing anywhere. ANYWHERE.” 

“Sorry, mum,” Dominic mumbled. 

“Sorry, Mrs Solanke,” Trent chimed in. She looked at him disapprovingly. 

“You can shower after Dom. Really, Trent, I expect better of you. What would your mother say?” She glared them up and down again and then turned and marched out. 

Trent looked at Dom. “Nice one, you fucking grass.” 

“Piss off. Panicked, didn’t I? Sponges are under the sink. I’ll not be long.” He left, going off to shower, Trent presumed. 

Trent sighed and looked around at the destroyed kitchen, unsure where to start. He bent down to the sink and started rifling around for cleaning products when he heard a voice. 

“I feel like there’s more frosting on you than on the cookies.” 

Trent jumped, not expecting that, and smacked his head off the edge of the cupboard. He groaned and brought a hand to his head, pain blooming over his skull. He turned around, stood up slowly and saw him, leaning in the doorframe with his hands in his pockets and a half smirk on his face. Mrs Solanke’s boyfriend was fit, was the thing - unbelievably fit, standing there in a fitted polo that made his arms look like tree trunks, one blue vein down the centre of his bicep. Trent tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. 

“Hi, Mr Henderson,” he said. 

Jordan pushed off from the doorway, approaching Trent slowly, hands still in his pockets. Trent was glued to the spot. Jordan walked around him once, eyeing him up and down, and Trent bit his tongue painfully to keep himself from popping a boner. 

“Definitely more frosting on you. Are you a Christmas treat?” He came to a stop in front of Trent and removed a hand from his pocket. Trent held his breath as Jordan wiped a bit of frosting off his cheek and then popped the finger into his mouth, licking the sugary substance obscenely, eyes never leaving Trent’s. “Seems to me that you’ve been really naughty this year, lad.” Jordan reached out with the same finger and wiped some icing from Trent’s neck. He held the finger in front of Trent’s mouth. “You tried it yet?” 

Trent shook his head ever so slightly and parted his lips, heart jack hammering in his chest. Jordan put the finger against Trent’s lips, then into his mouth. Trent sucked it - how could he not - and he was hard then, a very clear hard line in his tight chinos. Fuck it all. Jordan withdrew his finger and then put his hand back in his pocket. He looked down at Trent’s boner and raised an eyebrow. Trent squeezed his eyes closed and willed the earth to swallow him up. 

“Is that a baseball bat in your pocket or are you happy to see me?” 

Trent opened his eyes and looked up at Jordan, at his intense gaze and the slick of his hair. He had no idea what was happening; if he was dreaming. He forgot that this was his best mate’s mum’s boyfriend, that he wasn’t supposed to be into boys, that anyone could walk in at any minute. He gasped at Jordan dumbly, and Jordan let out a breathy laugh that definitely caused Trent to go from hard to ultra hard. 

“What’s wrong, Trent? Cat got your tongue?” 

“No. No, Mr Henderson.” 

“You don’t have to call us that. I’m not that much older than you are.” 

“Sorry.” 

“You don’t have to, but I do like it. It’s hot.” 

“Okay. Mr Henderson.” 

They heard feet on the stairs. Trent startled but Jordan didn’t flinch, still the picture of calm togetherness. 

“Better clean this mess up, Trent, eh?” Jordan flicked two fingers underneath Trent’s chin and then turned, going off to be with his girlfriend or do whatever it was he did. 

Trent could hardly breathe. He turned to the sink and splashed cold water on his face, gasping like he’d just narrowly avoided drowning. 

— 

The boys cleaned up the kitchen slowly and quietly. Trent refused a shower, saying he’d have one at home, but he did wipe off with a couple of wet wipes. He couldn’t stop thinking about his exchange with Jordan, replaying their conversation over and over again. Jordan had definitely stuck his finger in Trent’s mouth - that was flirting, wasn’t it? That was definitely flirting. It had to have been. 

They finished the kitchen just after twelve. 

“I’ll phone a taxi,” Trent told Dominic, pulling out his phone. 

“Nah, Jordan’ll drive you. He’s not been drinking.” 

Trent’s skin tingled. “You don’t have to do that.” 

“Nah, it’s fine. Hendo?” Dominic shouted, disappearing from the kitchen. “Jordan?” 

Trent took a deep breath and followed him into the living room, where Jordan and Dominic’s mum were cuddled on the couch, watching Graham Norton. 

“Can you drive Trent home, Jordan? He’s not far away.” 

“Course, mate.” Jordan looked at Trent. “Ready now?” 

Trent nodded. “Yeah. Ready now. Thank you - and I’m sorry again, Mrs Solanke. About the mess.” 

“Don’t worry about it, love,” she said. “Have a merry Christmas when it comes, alright? Say hi to your family for me.” 

“I will. Catch you later, Dom.” 

Dominic was already sat down in the arm chair, scrolling on his phone. “See you bud.” 

Jordan got up and smoothed down his trousers. “Right then, let’s get you home.” 

They went outside together. Jordan unlocked the car and they slid into their seats. It was a big car, a Range Rover, and it exuded power in the same way its owner did. Trent wanted to ask what Jordan did to afford a car like this, but he didn’t want to pry. 

The engine purred to life and they pulled off into the night. The roads were deserted. It was awkwardly quiet in the car, and Trent wracked his brains desperately for something to say. He couldn’t take his eyes off Jordan’s big hand on the wheel, the way his arm was extended in a display of firm strength, all muscly and hairy and pure sexiness. Before he could stop himself he was becoming hard again, and he had to shuffle in the seat to get comfortable, praying it wasn’t obvious - 

“Do you often pop boners like this?” Henderson asked, eyes on the road. “You a nymphomaniac?” 

Trent’s face flamed. “Stop teasing me,” he said quietly. Jordan’s eyes flicked to him and then back to the road. 

“What was that?” 

“Stop teasing me,” Trent said again, louder. “I don’t know why it’s happening. Must need to get laid or summat.” 

Jordan nodded to show he understood. They were silent again, but it was charged silence. Trent dug his fingers into his thighs. 

“Feel free to have a wank, if that’ll help. I don’t care.” 

Trent looked at Jordan with wide eyes. “What?” 

“Just saying. I don’t care if you get it out now. Still fifteen minutes yet till you’re home, don’t want you to be uncomfy the whole time.” 

Trent didn’t know if Jordan was taking the piss, couldn’t tell. He didn’t say anything, didn’t move, just stared at Jordan’s face for a clue. Jordan looked at him then, and it was clear to Trent that he wasn’t kidding. Trent unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers and put a hand down his pants and sighed at the touch. He was so hard it was painful, didn’t think he’d ever been so turned on in his life. 

“You can get it out,” Jordan repeated, and his voice was huskier. 

Trent did as he was told, not even thinking about the fact that other cars could see in if they came up beside any at a red light. Trent started wanking himself off and Jordan stared stoically ahead, but his calm exterior was slipping - Trent could see that his breathing was shallower, saw the muscles jumping in his arm. Trent swallowed. It was now or never. 

“Can you help me out, Mr Henderson?” 

Jordan bit his lip and glanced at Trent. “What do you want?” 

“You could touch it,” Trent said. He wanted to sound confident but he knew he sounded ridiculous. 

Jordan sucked at his teeth and then, miracle of miracles, he switched hands on the wheel and brought his left down onto Trent’s cock. Trent felt every muscle in his body contract, a growl coming from his chest. 

“Like this?” Jordan asked. 

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s good. Sir.” 

Trent saw Jordan’s eyes flicker at that, and it made his own cock jump. Jordan tugged at Trent, doing his best given it was his left hand, and steadfastly kept his eyes on the road. Trent was sliding around sluttily in the seat, all breathy and wriggly and turned on. 

“You’re really making me want to pull this car over,” Jordan said in a low voice. 

“Do it,” Trent said. “Do it.” 

“They’ll wonder where we are. I’ll not get home for hours. There’s so much I want to do to you.” 

Trent moaned, and felt the car lurch as Jordan’s feet stuttered on the pedal at the sound of it. “Fuck, Mr Henderson. Jesus.” 

Jordan kept wanking him off. Trent had never enjoyed a hand job so much in his life. He was overwhelmed with the desire to blow Jordan whilst he drove, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t give up the hand on his cock. 

“We’re nearly at yours, Trent. Do you think you could come soon?” 

Trent nodded, bit his lip. “Yeah. If you just - your thumb, in the head - yeah, oh god. Oh god yeah. I’m gonna come, sir. I’m going to come.” 

“Shit,” Jordan moaned. Trent closed his eyes and concentrated hard on the heat in his belly. He felt his stomach contract and the familiar tingle in his thighs and then just like that he was coming, all over himself and Jordan’s hand and a bit on the seat. Jordan brought his come covered hand up to Trent’s mouth. “Clean this off for me, good lad.” 

Trent did it, licked at his own come filthily, desperately. He could see that Jordan was hard and he put a hand over and on top of Jordan’s erection, squeezing at it. Jordan’s eyelids flickered but he moved Trent’s hand away, disappointing them both. 

“Not right now,” he said. “Not now. Like I said, I won’t be able to control myself. We both need to get home.” 

Trent nodded, accepted it. He tucked himself back into his trousers as the car pulled into his street, ran a hand over his hair. 

“Thanks, Mr Henderson,” he said, unclipping his seatbelt. “Sorry about the mess.” 

Jordan smirked. “Don’t worry about it. Go on, get inside.” Trent opened the door and as he turned to close it, Jordan called out again. “Trent?” 

“Sir?” 

“Behave yourself.” 

Trent closed the door and Jordan was off, driving back down the dark street. Trent watched until the car disappeared, and then he shook his head in disbelief. 

** 

Trent could not stop thinking about what had happened in the car with Dom’s step dad. 

It consumed him - the memory of Jordan’s calloused skin, the way his hand had gripped the steering wheel so tightly, how his breathing had become so shallow, his dick visibly pressing against his trousers. 

At first, Trent was unable to even read Dom’s texts. His snapchats went unanswered, his calls ignored - he didn’t think he could lie to his best mate in the entire world, didn’t think he had the ability to hide what he’d done. 

So he spent the remainder of the Christmas holidays hiding in his house, having frequent wanks to the memory of That Night, and worrying about how he was going to act normal around Dom when school started back up in the new year. 

His mum was worried about him. She came into his room and sat on the end of his bed, smoothing her hand over his Liverpool FC sheets, her eyebrows tugged down low. 

“Is everything okay, son?” She’d asked, barely able to meet his eyes. “I’m worried about you, moping around in the house like this. Do you not want to go out with your friends?” 

Trent felt guilty then, because he was perfectly fine. “Honestly, I just can’t be bothered going out and driving about Tesco car park and that. Just enjoying the last holidays before uni and stuff, there’s no... there’s nothing wrong with us.” 

“I love you, Trent,” she said, her eyes boring into his. “You can tell me, you know. If anything’s the matter.” 

“I know, mum. I love you too,” he said quietly, his stomach twisting. She’d be horrified if she knew, disgusted in Trent and in Jordan equally. 

Trent wished he had Jordan’s number or something, wished there was a way to talk to him. Jordan didn’t even have Facebook, the fucking grandad, and Trent was going out of his mind with anxiety over the whole thing. 

The holidays felt like they were over before they’d even begun. Before Trent knew it it was the 5th of January and he was back in his blazer, off to finish his final five months of school before university. 

Trent drove to school with a sick feeling in his stomach. He’d decided to tell himself that the whole thing didn’t happen, and that way he wouldn’t be lying to Dom - there was nothing to tell. It was a fantasy, a dream. There was nothing to confess. 

The minute he walked into the sixth form common room and saw Dom, however, all that crumbled. The night came rushing back to him in a flood of sensation - the smell of the sugar cookies, the colour of Jordan’s eyes, the sound of Dom’s mum’s heels on the wooden floor. 

“Where the fuck have you been hiding then?!” Dom exclaimed, getting up and trotting over to Trent. “Been fucking worried about you, bro!” 

Trent ducked his face a bit and willed his cheeks not to heat up, unable to look Dom in the eye. “Nah, man, just been a bit. You know. Feeling a bit shit.” 

“Fuck, Trent, what? What’s going on?” Dom whispered, his hand sliding around Trent’s shoulders. “Shit, are you - have you talked to a doctor? Should I - should I have picked up on this? Oh my god, mate -“ 

“Fuck, no, not like - I’m not suicidal or that,” Trent back tracked quickly, feeling even worse than he did before. “No, nothing like that.” 

“Are you sure? Because you can always talk to me, man, I mean that -“ 

“Honestly,” Trent said, patting Dom on the arm. “I’m good. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you or that.” 

“Don’t go quiet on me again, Trent, will you? I missed you,” Dom said sincerely. “Been fuckin’ bored for the last two weeks.” 

“I won’t,” Trent said quietly. “I won’t. I’m sorry.” 

“Right you two,” their friend Andy shouted suddenly. “Who’s up for a house party this weekend?” 

** 

Trent fucking loved school. He was clever, and he was studious, and he thrived in academia. He was top of his class for maths and chemistry, he was shit hot at PE and physics. English was the only thing he didn’t like, but he was by no means bad at it. He’d stopped studying it after AS level, and had somehow convinced the school to allow him to sit 4 A levels in his final year. Doing A Level Phys Ed meant a lot to him, beyond his ambitions to do mechanical engineering at uni. Trent was also on the school’s chess team, which wasn’t something he necessarily bragged about, but not something he was ashamed of, either. Somehow Trent managed to toe the line between popularity and academic success, and he did so beautifully. 

He was looking forward to the house party that weekend, then, because the first week back after holidays was brutal. They’d be applying to uni in the next couple of weeks and the pressure would be on to perform, to get the grades needed. Trent wanted to go to Cambridge, too, and his guidance councillor truly believed he had what it takes. 

He needed to blow off some steam, in essence, and getting drunk at Andy’s house with the rest of the year was exactly the place to do it. The day before the party, Dom asked Trent to come over and pre drink at his place, and for a split second Trent considered saying no, fuck no - but he wanted to see Jordan again more than he wanted to do the decent thing. 

And now he was excited not just for the party, but for seeing Dom’s step dad. He felt shitty, really he did - Mrs Solanke was lovely, and she deserved better, she really did. Trent was going straight to hell, there was no question about that. 

** 

Dom opened the door to him on Friday night with a can of Bud in hand and a big grin on his face. 

“Happening, shagger?” Dom said animatedly, ushering Trent into the house. “You look sick.” 

Trent was wearing a tight fitting black polo and a pair of black dress trousers. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t agonised over his appearance before he’d left, wondering what Jordan liked and didn’t like. He changed three times before settling back on his first choice - the black ensemble - and then he phoned a taxi to take him over to Dom’s. 

“Cheers,” Trent said breathlessly, his heart thumping. “Same to you.” 

“I’m chilling upstairs, c’mon,” Dom said, closing the door and leading Trent up to his room. 

It was messy and familiar, house music playing quietly from his speakers, his bed unmade. Trent smoothed out the sheets and sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling his six pack of Coronas out of the Tesco bag they were in. 

“Got a bottle opener?” 

“Uh - in the kitchen,” Dom said, not looking up from his phone. “Giz a minute and I’ll go down -“ 

“Nah, it’s sound,” Trent said quickly, getting up. “I know where it is. I’ll be right back.” 

He stepped into the hallway and took a deep breath, gathering himself. Trent took the stairs quickly, his feet hitting them in an unsteady pattern. He could hear the TV in the living room but he didn’t dare peek in, didn’t trust himself to look at Jordan and Dom’s mum. He snuck past the open door, head down, and went to the kitchen. 

He didn’t actually have a clue what drawer the bottle opener might be in, and he suddenly wished he’d just let Dom look. Trent started pulling drawers out at random and rifling through the utensils, willing any kind of bottle opener to show itself. He was having no luck and was about to just go and open the thing with his teeth when a voice made him jump. 

“Looking for something?” 

Trent let go of the drawer he was holding like it’d burned him. He felt heat flooding his face as he looked at Jordan in the doorway, one eyebrow raised, one hand stuffed in the pocket of his grey joggers. He looked ridiculously good, like he always did, and Trent felt the blood in his body war over whether it should be rushing to his cheeks or his dick. 

“Trent?” 

“Uh - Yeah. The uh. Bottle opener?” Trent said, his voice embarrassingly unsteady. 

Jordan moved towards the fridge, his body easy and calm, oozing control. He removed a magnetised bottle opener from the fridge door, tossing it without warning over the kitchen island at Trent. He barely had time to react, his hand shooting out and catching the thing at the last minute. Jordan smirked, impressed. 

“Haven’t seen you round here for a while,” Jordan said, propping his forearms against the work top. “How’s life?” 

“Been busy,” Trent said. “You know. Just living life.” 

“Dom told Lynn you’ve got depression. That true?” 

“What? No,” Trent spluttered, mentally cursing Dom. “No, fuck sake. I actually - I just didn’t - it was awkward, like, after -“ 

“Trent, darling!” Lynn said suddenly, padding into the kitchen in slippers. “Oh, it’s been so long. How are you doing?” 

“I’m grand, Mrs S, how are you?” 

“The usual, Trent. Feeling a bit shit since Christmas, all the food I’ve ate,” she said, pulling a pot of chive dip from the fridge and tucking chilli heatwave Doritos under her arm. “Need to get in the gym.” 

“No you don’t, you look amazing,” Trent said, smiling warmly at her. His eyes flickered to Jordan, who was observing him closely, his face unreadable. “Anyway. I’m just gonna nip upstairs with this,” he said, waving the bottle opener. “See you later.” 

He didn’t look back at Jordan as he left, taking the stairs two at a time, his heart thudding. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was fucked. Trent took a deep breath, rounded his shoulders, and pushed into Dom’s room, hoping his semi wasn’t too visible. 

** 

The party was good, and Trent was drunk and horny and excitable, but none of his classmates were fitting the bill. 

He didn’t want to go home with some girl from maths for the first time in his life; wouldn’t be satisfied with a five minute shag at the bottom of someone’s back garden, glancing up at their parent’s bedroom every five minutes. He knew what he wanted, knew what he _needed_ , but that was something he couldn’t have, and it was this realisation alone that was killing him. 

He was having a heated debate with one of the girls from his form class about Jeremy Corbyn when Dom sidled up to him, wasted and needy, his head slipping onto Trent’s shoulder. 

“Trenty?” He whined, speech incredibly slurred. “Trent? Wanna go ‘ome. So tired.” 

“Find a bed upstairs to kip in?” Trent said, looking down at Dom’s lolling head. “It’s only one in the morning.” 

“Please get me home,” Dom begged, standing up straight suddenly. “Uh oh,” he said, face draining of colour. “I feel sick.” 

“Fuck - go to the bathroom!” Trent shouted, shoving Dom in the shoulder - but all that did was push him into the sofa, where he opened his mouth and emptied the contents of his stomach. 

Trent groaned and slapped his hand to his forehead, mortified. Everyone around them jumped back, silence falling over the room as Andy came barrelling in.

“Jesus fuck, Dom!” He bellowed, mouth ajar. “My mum is going to fucking murder me! Get him out of here Trent!” 

“Alright, alright,” Trent said, guiding a sad looking Dom towards the door. “Do you want a hand cleaning that -“ 

“Just get him out! Fucking get him out!” 

Trent led Dom into the street, his hand moving reassuringly up and down his back. “Fuck sake, Dom,” Trent said softly, shaking his head. “Did you have to do it on the couch?” 

“I’m not well,” Dom moaned, a sickly shade of green. “I need to go hooome, Trent.” 

Trent pulled Dom’s phone out of his pocket and unlocked it, scrolling through his recent calls for the taxi number they’d used earlier. The line was busy, though - one am on a Friday night. The chances for a car in the next few minutes were bleak. 

“Please, Trent,” Dom wheezed, his breathing getting shallow again. “Need water.” 

Trent internally cursed himself for what he was about to do, and navigated to Dom’s contact list. He scrolled down until he found it - Hendo - and hit dial. The call rang and rang, Trent’s heart in his throat, and then - 

“Dommo?” 

Trent swallowed. “Nah. It’s Trent,” he breathed. 

“Is everything okay? Is Dom okay?” Jordan said more clearly, louder. “Where are you?” 

“We’re on Meadow Park, near the garages,” Trent said. “Dom’s in a bad way. Too much to drink.” 

“I’ll be there in five minutes,” Jordan was saying, and Trent could hear the jangling of keys down the line. “Hold on tight till I get there, okay?” 

“Okay,” Trent said meekly, and then the call went dead. 

Jordan’s Range Rover came purring up the street exactly six minutes later. Dom had thrown up again in that time, and both he and Trent let out noises of happiness at the sight of the sleek black car, though for different reasons. Dom pulled open the back door and lay himself along the back seat, conking out almost instantly. Jordan shook his head in semi-disgust, eyebrows raised. 

“Fucking lightweight,” he laughed, looking out at Trent. “You getting in? I’ll give you a lift home.” 

Trent had really, really hoped Jordan would bring him back to the Solanke’s house, maybe toss him off again in the kitchen, Dom and his mum fast asleep upstairs. He quashed his disappointment and nodded, getting into the passenger seat, skin burning knowing that this was where it had happened before, back at Christmas. 

Jordan didn’t seem to be thinking the same thing, however - he looked coolly ahead, hands shifting gear easily, curving the bends of the road seamlessly. Trent felt like time was ticking, like moments like this were precious - but what the fuck was he meant to do with Dom in the back, comatose but still at risk of waking up and seeing something he really, really shouldn’t? 

“You not been taking care of him?” Jordan said suddenly, eyes never leaving the road. 

“What?!” Trent said, looking over at him. “Clearly I was, since I’ve left the party with him and phoned you -“ 

“Relax,” Jordan said, glancing round at him. “I’m joking.” 

“Where are you from?” Trent blurted out before he could stop himself. “Newcastle?” 

Jordan snorted. “Fuck off, Newcastle. I’m from Sunderland.” 

“Same thing, ain’t it?” 

Jordan turned his head fully to Trent, and the look on his face made Trent squirm in his seat. “You an Everton supporter?” 

“Fuck no,” Trent answered quickly. “I’m a red through and through.” 

“I know Adam Lallana,” Jordan said casually, glancing in the rear view mirror. “I could get you tickets one time, hospitality suite.” 

If Trent wasn’t hard already, he was now. “How do you know him?” He gasped, utterly awed. “What the fuck? Why didn’t I know that?!” 

“My sister went to uni with his mrs. He’s sound as fuck.” 

“I know _that_. Oh my god, that’s - Mr Henderson, I’m proper star struck by that. That’s mental.” 

Jordan smiled as he glanced at him, his expression softer again. “You’re cute when you’re excited,” he said, and it came out so quietly that Trent wasn’t sure he’d heard him correctly. They drove in silence for a few minutes, only Dom’s snores filling the car.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” Trent whispered after a while, getting it out before he could stop himself. “What we -“ 

“Trent,” Jordan said firmly, losing a bit of his cool demeanour. “Dom’s right here -“ 

“He’s passed out,” Trent said desperately, sitting up straighter. “He’s not listening. Mr Henders-“ 

“Stop calling me that.” 

“Jordan, then. I just think -“ 

“This is you,” Jordan said, braking and looking out his window. “Thanks for phoning me, yeah? Don’t be a stranger.” His jaw was tight, his eyes straight ahead. Trent felt scared, almost. 

“But -“ 

“Good night, Trent.” It was a warning, Jordan’s voice level and low. Trent wanted to push it, wanted to see where Jordan’s line was. Electricity fizzled up and down his arms, his legs. He licked his lips, considered it - and then decided this wasn’t the moment. Not with Dom lying there like that. 

“Bye, Mr Henderson,” he grumbled, getting out of the car and letting the door slam shut behind him. 

The car waited until Trent had gotten inside and closed the door before it drove off into the night. 

** 

Dom had to take Andy’s mum a huge bouquet of flowers the next day. 

He made Trent drive him in his Corsa because he was too hungover himself, and then invited him round to have a Chinese with his mum and Hendo after. 

Trent politely declined - he had tonnes of homework to do, and he wasn’t the type to leave it to the last minute. Dom didn’t even press him on the matter, too unwell to be bothered. 

Trent spent the whole night thinking about how it’d feel to suck Jordan’s dick. He didn’t bother with his maths homework in the end, much too distracted. 

** 

It was two weeks before Trent was invited back to the Solanke house. 

Dom invited him and a couple of the other boys round for a poker night. Trent had casually tried to ask if Dom’s mum and her boyfriend would be there, but Dom had only shrugged noncommittally and said “Dunno?” 

Andy picked Trent up and they stopped at Tesco so Trent could buy their alcohol, due to Andy still being only seventeen. 

“Do you even know how to play poker?” Trent asked Andy on the way to Dom’s. “Does Jadon know?” 

“I know loads about poker,” Andy said indignantly. “Dunno about Jadon, like. You’ll have to teach him.” 

“Brilliant,” Trent muttered, but he was smiling. “Teaching Jadon anything is fucking brutal.” 

“Shut up,” Andy said, pulling into Dom’s driveway. “You love acting like the smart alec.” 

Trent got out the car, the beer in his arms, and tried not to be too disappointed that the Range Rover was nowhere to be seen. Dom opened the door wearing a green visor, already visibly tipsy. Trent greeted him with a hug, shuffling into the house and chatting to Jadon, who was setting things up on the dining room table. 

“So, Jadon - do you have any idea how to play this?” 

Their poker night went swimmingly. Jadon somehow hustled the lot of them - “Beginner’s luck!” Dom kept shrieking - and they ate a shit tonne of dominos pizza, washed down with cold beer.  
They were no longer playing, just chatting and singing drunkenly, when Dom’s mum and Hendo came into the kitchen. 

Trent fell silent, watching Jordan move to put a bottle of wine in the fridge as Dom’s mum greeted the boys and wrapped her arms around Dom’s shoulders. Jordan looked good, impossibly good - his blonde hair was wavy and styled off his forehead, his shirt stretched tight over his shoulder blades. Trent licked at his lips, feeling that familiar energy begin to build at the base of his spine. 

“Trent?” 

Trent looked around suddenly, his neck twinging with pain. Dom and his mum were staring at Trent expectantly, eyebrows raised. 

“Yeah?” 

“I said how’s your mum?” 

Trent swallowed, shifted in his seat. “She’s good, thanks, Mrs S.” 

“Are you staying over too, I take it?” She asked, finally moving away from the dining table and over to the kitchen island, dumping her hand bag onto the counter unceremoniously. 

Trent swore he saw Jordan’s shoulders tense at the question, and Trent’s stomach flipped with anticipation. “Yeah, please, Mrs S. If it’s not too much bother.” 

“Of course it’s not,” she smiled. “Dom, go upstairs and get the air bed out the cupboard, two of the lads can sleep on that. And don’t forget to clean up,” she added, walking over to Jordan and leaning up to kiss him gently on the mouth. 

Trent felt jealousy roar in his stomach. He looked away bitterly, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek. He mumbled “goodnight”at Dom’s mum as she left the kitchen, the stairs creaking as she went off to ready herself for bed. 

“Right then,” Dom said, beginning to clear away bottles. “Trent, you can sleep in my bed with me. Jadon and Andy, you’re on the blow up.” 

“Here - let me tidy up,” Trent said, taking the bottles from Dom’s hands. “You go and get sorted upstairs.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, it’s no bother,” Trent said, not looking at Jordan. “Yous just go up.” 

“Right then,” Dom said, pleased he didn’t need to deal with the mess. “Cheers bud.” 

Trent nodded as the three of them left, Andy and Jadon winding each other up about something that Trent had missed. Then it was just him and Jordan, alone again, the clock ticking on the wall the only sound. Jordan had his back to Trent, scrolling on his phone. Trent took a deep breath and carried the bottles over to the recycling bin, letting them drop with a loud clatter. Jordan turned around then, observing Trent calmly. 

“How’d the poker night go?” 

Trent shrugged. “Jadon smashed us all.” 

“Bet you didn’t like that.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Trent snapped, doing his best to fold the empty pizza box in half. 

Jordan smirked and took the box out of Trent’s hands, folding the thing easily. “You just strike me as a sore loser.” 

“Get to fuck,” Trent said, rolling his eyes. 

Suddenly Jordan reached out and grabbed Trent’s chin, holding him so that he had to look into Jordan’s eyes. “Watch your mouth,” Jordan growled. Trent couldn’t have hidden his boner if his life depended on it. 

“Sorry sir,” he breathed, skin tingling under Jordan’s touch. He didn’t care, suddenly, that the boys and Dom’s mum were upstairs. All he wanted was for Jordan to push him onto his knees, make Trent suck his dick, make a mess of him. 

As they looked into each other’s eyes, Trent was sure that Jordan was going to, but then - 

“Get upstairs,” Jordan said, letting go of Trent’s chin. “I’ll clean all this up.” 

“But -“ 

“Go.” 

Head spinning, Trent walked backwards to the door. He waited for a second, staring longingly at Jordan’s back, willing him to come over and kiss Trent or touch him again, anything would do, but he didn’t. Trent dragged himself sadly upstairs, locking himself in the bathroom and splashing cold water over his face and neck. 

He considered asking Jordan for a lift home, pretending he didn’t feel well. He considered just walking it, thirty minutes in the cold January air. He was about to do just that when someone knocked on the door - Jadon, calling for Trent happily - and guilt took over once again. 

Trent schooled his features in the mirror, straightened his spine, and opened the bathroom door, determined to at least act like he wasn’t the worst friend in the whole world. 

** 

The next week passed in a blur of school work, chess club meetings and refreshing his emails near constantly for any word from Cambridge. All was quiet on the university front, which was to be expected, and Trent told himself that no news was good news. 

Andy asked the boys if they wanted to go to the pub on Saturday to watch the Liverpool game, and they all agreed - even Dom, who was a die hard Chelsea fan. Trent was looking forward to it - it was set to be a good game, and a Spoons trip was always fun. 

They took a table near one of the flat screen TVs and settled down with drinks to watch. Trent kept shooting daggers at the City fans in the corner who were being loud and lairy, reminding himself that Liverpool were seven points ahead. He was wearing his red Liverpool shirt, the one with Van Dijk on the back, and he always felt invincible in it. 

The game was a nail biter, both teams making stupid errors and neither really playing their best. The drinks kept coming, though, and by the time the game ended 1-1, Trent was pretty tipsy. He was feeling itchy and unsettled, feeling like he wanted to leave this pub and go elsewhere, when Jadon nudged Dom and said “Your step dad’s here, Dom.” 

Trent looked around quickly, his heart rate spiking. There indeed at the bar was Jordan, laughing open mouthed with his friends in a tight blue T-shirt and ridiculously well fitting jeans. Trent’s mouth went dry, his desire to leave evaporating. 

“Should we go somewhere else?” Andy asked. 

“No!” Trent spluttered quickly, looking at Andy like he was mad. “No. It’s so expensive everywhere else. Nout wrong with Spoons.” 

“I bet Hendo’ll buy us drinks,” Dom said, winking at the boys before getting out of his seat. 

Trent watched him approach Jordan and his friends, watched Jordan’s eyes light up as he saw Dom and then immediately begin scanning the room, eyes searching until they found Trent’s. Trent purposefully bit down on his bottom lip, blinking once slowly. Jordan’s Adam’s apple bobbed and he looked back down at Dom, nodding his head and clapping him on the shoulder. 

Dom returned to the table with a satisfied grin. “Hendo’s getting a round in for us!” 

“Sweet,” Andy said. “What does he do again? Isn’t he like, proper rich?” 

“He’s something to do with pensions and that. He’s so high up, got his own office.” 

“He’s well lucky anyway, shagging your mum,” Jadon said cheekily, earning himself a punch from Dom. “Ow!” 

“Right lads,” Jordan said suddenly, placing four bottles of beer down on the table. “Drink responsibly, eh?” 

Trent stared up at him, doing his best to look through his lashes. Jordan just stared darkly back for a beat and then he was gone, back to his mates, not even glancing around. 

Trent glowered in his seat, letting the conversation wash over him. He was sick of this - sick of Jordan being such a brick wall, sick of wanting him so badly and never getting a fucking thing. He hadn’t dreamed what happened in the car that night, he hadn’t made it up, and yet he was still unsure if Jordan even liked him. None of it was fair. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Dom said, waving his hand in front of Trent’s face. 

“Nothin’,” Trent muttered, downing the rest of his beer. “Going to the pisser.” 

He got up and walked purposefully past Jordan’s table, hoping he would be followed - but he wasn’t, and he let out a breath of frustration in the bathroom, punching the sink pathetically. 

Trent peed and washed his hands and marched back onto the pub floor, walking right up to Jordan’s group of friends and inserting himself between two big men. 

“Anyone here a City supporter?” He said, interrupting their conversation and pointedly not looking at Jordan. “You are?” 

One of the boys nodded, looking at Trent mischievously. “I am, yeah. Why?” 

“Can you explain to me what the fuck you all see in Kyle Walker?” 

“Trent.” Jordan said, voice level, but Trent ignored him. 

“Fuck off,” the City fan laughed, his eyes twinkling. “You explain to me why Salah dives at the slightest gust of wind.” 

Trent licked his lips, grinning. “You’ll have to buy me a drink first,” he said, winking. “Before I reveal secrets like that.” 

“Oh will I?” City fan responded, looking Trent up and down. “That mouth as skilled at everything else as it is at talking shit?” 

“Right,” Jordan said, stepping forward suddenly, his jaw clenching and unclenching. “You’ve had too much to drink,” he snapped, grabbing Trent by the bicep and pulling him away from the circle of men. “Enough.” 

Trent let himself be pulled, skin singing where Jordan was touching it. He dragged Trent out the doors of the pub and around the corner, through the chilly night to the back of the building. Jordan lead him between a couple of huge bins, pushing him against the brick wall and glaring at him. 

“The fuck are you doing?” Jordan hissed. “Acting like that?” 

“Acting like what?” Trent asked, heart skipping happily in his chest. “I was only talking to that guy?” 

“Buy me a drink first? Are you trying to fucking pull one of my mates?” 

“What if I was?” Trent breathed, eyes on Jordan’s lips. “That not allowed?” 

“No, it’s not fucking allowed. Jesus Christ, Trent. You’re a kid -“ 

“Don’t call me that,” Trent answered quickly, smile disappearing. “What? A kid? Don’t fucking do that. I’m 18.” 

“You’re driving me fucking mental, did you know that? You think it’s easy, having you come around the house all the time, looking at me the way you do? And now you’re trying to get with my mates? Are you mad?!” 

“You never give me any attention,” Trent said petulantly. “You never -“ 

“What is it you want? Another hand job? Are you even into blokes?” 

“I want to suck you off,” he answered boldly. “I want to return the favour.” 

Jordan closed his eyes and sighed, leaning a hand against the wall. “Fucking hell. You’re going to get me in so much fucking trouble, Trent, I swear to god.” 

“Is that a yes?” 

“If you don’t blow me, you gonna go in there and do it to one of my mates?” 

“Yeah,” Trent nodded. “Yes. So, better someone I know, innit.” 

“Be quick,” Jordan said, and Trent dropped to his knees without a second thought. 

He fumbled about with Jordan’s belt, unbuttoned his trousers, unzipped the zipper. Jordan helped him to shimmy his jeans down his thighs, and Trent closed his eyes and pressed his nose and mouth to Jordan’s crotch, breathing in the scent of laundry detergent. Jordan was hard already, thick and firm under Trent’s lips. He pressed kisses to it, trying to think straight through the haze of excitement and alcohol. He’d never sucked a dick before, but he knew what he liked himself, and it couldn’t be that hard. 

Jordan was breathing heavily above him, one arm still pressed to the wall, the other coming to rest lightly on Trent’s head. He tugged a bit at his hair and Trent took it as encouragement to put his fingers in Jordan’s waist band, pulling his pants down and letting Jordan’s dick bob free. Trent wrapped his hand around it, impressed by the girth, and stuck his tongue out experimentally. Jordan moaned and gripped his hair tighter and it made Trent preen, opening his mouth and sucking on it eagerly. 

It was really hard to get a rhythm going, as it turned out, and the whole thing felt a little bit like suffocating, but Jordan kept groaning and whispering “Good boy” and he was clearly making a real effort not to move his hips, which Trent appreciated. He sucked it sloppily, wetly, saliva dribbling down his chin. He looked up at Jordan through the darkening evening, feeling Jordan’s cock twitch in his mouth when they made eye contact. 

“You ever done this before?” Jordan asked raspily. 

Trent shook his head as much as he could, flicking his tongue just so on the movement. 

“Good,” Jordan said in response, taking his hand off the wall and putting it at the base of his dick, holding it steady as Trent bobbed his head. “Good.” 

Trent hummed at that and tried to go deeper, gagging a bit as Jordan’s head hit the back of his throat. 

“God, you’re so slutty,” Jordan said, grabbing a fistful of Trent’s hair and pulling. “Look at you. Fucking hell. Let me fuck your mouth,” he said, and Trent relaxed his jaw, gazing up as Jordan worked his hips back and forth in tiny motions. “Don’t ever come onto anyone else in front of me ever again, alright?” 

Trent hummed and Jordan slowed down, releasing his hair, letting the hand slide down to cup Trent’s cheek. “Trent? I’m gonna come soon,” he said softly, pushing him back a little. “Let me just -“ 

Trent popped off, gasping for breath, and tucked his head against Jordan’s thigh as he finished himself off, his big hand moving quickly over his dick. Trent breathed wetly against Jordan’s skin, and when Jordan came he put his hand to Trent’s head again, holding him close, letting out the word ‘fuck’ so quietly Trent almost missed it over the pounding in his ears. 

After a couple of seconds Jordan pulled his clothes back up and Trent got to his feet, so painfully fucking hard in his jeans. He let his back hit against the wall, looking up at Jordan expectantly, his chest heaving. Jordan was looking at him softly, blissed out from his orgasm. Trent wanted to kiss him so fucking badly. 

Jordan began to lean in, his thumb brushing against Trent’s bottom lip, and then - 

“Trent? Trent! Where are you?!” 

“Shit,” Jordan hissed, ducking down behind the bin. “Fuck. Go!” 

“What do I say?!” Trent hissed back, looking down at Jordan. “Jordan?!” 

“Just _go!_ ” 

Trent walked out from behind the bins at the exact moment that Dom rounded the corner to the ally way, concern etched into his face. 

“Where the fuck have you been? We’ve been looking everywhere!” 

“Needed to pee,” Trent said, his voice suspiciously gravelly. “Toilets were full. C’mon,” he smiled, pulling Dom back towards the entrance to the pub. “Let’s get the lads and go for a scran. I’m fucking starving.” 

** 

Trent spent the entire next day sucking on his own fingers and trying to imagine what it was like for Jordan. For the first time since he’d started school, he failed to do his homework at all, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He could drop the ball for one bloody day - it wouldn’t be the end of the world. 

** 

Two days later, at school, Dom realised he’d left his English essay at home exactly thirty minutes before it was due. 

“Please drive me back,” he begged Trent, clinging to the arm of his blazer. “Please. Mrs Burns will kill me, Trent, you know she will.” 

“Just tell her you’ll bring it tomorrow?” 

“Trent! Please!” Dom cried, looking genuinely worried. “I’m fucking pleading with you. Do you want me to get on my knees? I will, I swear it. Look, I’ll -“ 

“Fine,” Trent said, rolling his eyes. “You can give me a fiver petrol money though.” 

“Yeah, whatever. I love you, bro,” Dom said, squeezing Trent’s cheek before bounding off towards the door. 

Trent sighed, ignoring the voice in his head that said - you have no right to accept his love, not after what you’ve been doing - and got up to drive Dom home for his English essay. 

Dom unlocked the door and went sprinting upstairs, telling Trent to wait in the hallway. 

The sound of the TV from the living room caught his attention, however, and he walked in its direction, sticking his head round the door frame. He didn’t expect to see Jordan sat there in a pair of joggers, legs open on the couch, loose women playing in the background as he scrolled on his phone. 

“Not at work?” Trent said, walking into the room proper. 

Jordan looked him up and down, smirking. “Nice uniform.” 

“Shut up.” 

“I’m working from home today.” 

“Looks like you’re getting a lot done.” 

“C’mere,” Jordan said gently, his eyes glittering. “You cheeky little shit.” 

Trent wanted to say ‘make me’ but he didn’t. Instead he walked to the edge of the sofa, his heart thudding in his ears. Jordan sat up a bit and took Trent’s tie between his fingers, turning it over in his hand. Trent’s mouth opened slightly, his eyes on Jordan’s face - his blue eyes, the scruff on his chin - and then Jordan pulled on Trent’s tie, bringing him closer, and put his mouth on Trent’s. 

Trent held stock still, his heart racing. Jordan’s lips were soft but firm, pressing against his like they were made for that very task. His tongue licked at Trent’s bottom lip and he opened his mouth, his own tongue sliding against Jordan’s. He let out a little noise in his throat and leaned forward, his hand cupping the side of Jordan’s face, his legs wanting to straddle Jordan’s so badly - but then he heard Dom’s feet on the stairs, the sound of his voice calling out Trent’s name, and they broke apart like they’d been shocked. 

Trent looked at the doorframe just as Dom entered, his chest heaving. Jordan was looking down at his phone again but his cheeks were pink and his lips shiny and Trent wanted Dom to go, to get the fuck out, to leave them alone. 

“Come on, T,” Dom said, eager to get going. “See you later Hendo.” 

Jordan looked up like he’d not noticed either of them standing there. “Yeah, mate,” he said, looking back down at his phone just as quick. 

Dom made a face at Trent and then they were leaving, much to Trent’s disappointment. Trent was quiet the entire drive back, barely able to concentrate on the road. Jordan had kissed him, and it was perfect, and Trent liked him. He was falling for him, and the thought terrified him. This could only end badly, only end in hurt, and yet Trent knew he couldn’t stop doing this if he tried. 

Dom was yammering on about his essay, going on and on about how much he hated Macbeth. All Trent could think about was how he’d been able to taste coffee and toast in Jordan’s mouth. 

“Cheers for the lift, T,” Dom said when they were back at school. “Legend.” 

“Don’t forget my fiver,” Trent said, holding out his palm. 

“Fine,” Dom grumbled, reaching into his blazer pocket and pulling out a crumpled five pound note. “That was my lunch money, but whatever. Take it. Enjoy it. Enjoy watching me starve.” 

Trent rolled his eyes and headed off into the building. He’d buy Dom lunch later, he wasn’t that cruel. It was the principle of the matter, the principle of the fiver. Trent steadfastly ignored the voice in his head that was asking _but what about the principle of kissing Jordan?_

** 

Trent was finishing up a physics exercise later that night when his phone dinged with a text from an unknown number. 

_you busy? it’s Jordan_

Trent nearly dropped his phone, his hands beginning to shake. 

_how did you get my number_

The answering text came in instantly. 

_Dom left his phone charging downstairs and I got your number. Busy or not ?_

It was late, and he’d have to think of a bullshit excuse for his mum, but Trent couldn’t say no. 

_nah not busy, why_

Jordan replied seconds later. 

_be there in 15_

Trent jumped off his bed and scrambled to the bathroom. He pulled his toothbrush around his teeth, sprayed some deodorant and fluffed at his hair a bit. He ran back to his room and pulled off his pyjamas, putting on a pair of jeans and a shirt before deciding that was too try hard. He changed again into joggers and a soft sweatshirt and then went to tell his mum he was popping out with Andy. 

“He’s having a melt down over uni,” he said. “Scared he’s gonna get rejected from everywhere.” 

“It’s late, Trent,” his mum said, looking up at him from the sofa. “Don’t be out for long, alright?” 

A car honked outside. “Yeah. Got it. Bye mum!” 

Trent didn’t even wait to hear her response. He was clattering up the hall, tugging his shoes on and bursting out the door. There, at the end of the driveway, was the black Range Rover. Trent took a deep breath and approached the car, sliding into the passenger seat. The car was warm and cosy, and Alicia Keys was playing quietly over the aux. 

“Hey,” Jordan said, smiling softly. “Wanna get ice cream?” 

“Okay,” Trent said, buckling up his seatbelt. “What about -“ 

“Told Lynn I had to nip out to Tesco. I’ve probably got about an hour.” 

“Sound,” Trent answered. 

“How’s your day been?” 

Trent told Jordan about his day; about how class had gone and how he was supposed to go to a chess tournament the weekend of Jadon’s birthday. 

“Chess? You play chess?” 

“Yeah,” Trent blushed. “Since I was 10. My dad taught me.” 

“That’s cool,” Jordan said, rolling down the window at the McDonald’s drive thru. “That’s really impressive. You’ll have to teach me some time.” 

“I can do that,” Trent said, stomach doing somersaults. “Definitely.” 

“Hi, yeah, can we have two smarties McFlurries please?” Jordan said to the machine. “Yeah, that’s everything thanks.” 

He pulled up to the next window and paid, handing one of the ice creams to Trent and nestling the other between his legs. It was too cold out for ice cream, the tips of Trent’s fingers going numb, but the creamy texture of it tasted amazing and he groaned around the plastic spoon, eyelids fluttering closed. Jordan took a space towards the back of the car park, leaving the engine running for warmth. 

“My mam used to take me for a smarties mcflurry every Friday after school,” he said after a moment. “Still my favourite thing in the world.” 

“Do you miss her? Your mum?” 

Jordan licked his spoon obscenely as he thought about it. “Yeah, I do. It’s only three hours away, and it doesn’t seem like much, but it is. It’s tough. My dad too, it’s hard missing both of them.” 

“Dunno what I’ll do without my mum if I get into Cambridge,” Trent said. “Dunno what I’m going to do without the boys, either. Everything’s going to change.” 

“Not necessarily. It doesn’t have to,” Jordan said. “I’ve still got all the same mates from when I was at school, but I’ve got new ones now, too. Those boys you saw at the weekend, they’re uni friends, but I still see my school friends at least once a month. Still speak to them every day. Phones are wonderful things.” 

“Really? People always say you find your ‘people’ at uni, but like. I feel like I’ve already got them, you know? Dom and that. They’re my brothers.” 

“Yeah, really. And it’s clear, you know, what you’ve got with them. It’s special,” Jordan said. 

The mention of Dom and their relationship made Trent’s heart twist sadly. He was reminded that he was here, with Dom’s mother’s boyfriend, eating ice cream and sneaking around in the dark. 

“Hey? Trent,” Jordan said, sensing Trent’s mood. “You’re not a bad person.” 

“Not a good person, am I? Do you... does this not make you feel bad?” 

Jordan was silent for a moment, and then he reached out and cupped Trent’s cheek. “Makes me feel fucking awful, of course it does. But being with you just... doesn’t. It doesn’t feel bad, it feels good. I can’t stop thinking about you.” 

Trent could barely maintain eye contact - Jordan was looking at him so fiercely, so intently. _I can’t stop thinking about you._ Maybe Jordan was falling, too. Trent’s eyes dropped to Jordan’s mouth, and he began to lean in, when Jordan brought his other hand up and smeared ice cream on Trent’s nose. 

“Hey!” Trent squealed, putting his hands into his own ice cream and digging some out to wipe on Jordan. He clambered out of his seat and over the console, squeezing into Jordan’s space, laughing breathlessly and attempting to get the ice cream in Jordan’s hair. 

Jordan was laughing too, his eyes crinkly at the sides, and he grabbed Trent’s wrists in his big hands, stilling his flailing arms. Jordan stopped smiling, his face growing serious. He brought Trent’s messy fingers to his mouth and sucked them in, licking the ice cream away. He never broke eye contact as he did, causing the air to vacate Trent’s lungs. When his fingers were clean Jordan leaned in and licked the ice cream from Trent’s nose, before tilting his head and bringing their mouths together. 

They kissed slowly, the taste of vanilla ice cream and sweet smarties mixing between their tongues. Trent let his hips roll down against Jordan’s as he sighed into the kiss, completely and utterly lost in the sensation of it. Jordan’s hands were on his hips, anchoring him down, pressing carefully into his skin. 

It could’ve been seconds, could’ve been hours, but either way it wasn’t fucking long enough. Trent could’ve sat there in Jordan’s lap for the rest of his life and needed nothing else - just this, the safety of Jordan’s hands spread over Trent’s back, the warm, wet feeling of his mouth, the tantalising hardness of his dick pressing against Trent’s own. 

All too soon Jordan was peeling his mouth away, smiling fondly when Trent chased his lips, not content to give this up yet. 

“Trent,” Jordan murmured, squeezing his thighs. “We have to go back. S’getting late.” 

“No,” Trent breathed, holding onto Jordan’s neck and rolling his hips down dirtily. “No, no, no, no, no.” 

Jordan moaned, kissing Trent hard, and then he stopped. “For real, we need to stop,” he said more firmly. “This is fucking crazy. We’re going to get in trouble.” 

Trent pulled back, panting, and frowned. “Maybe we shouldn’t be doing it then.” 

Jordan sighed. “No, we shouldn’t be. We definitely shouldn’t be doing this, fucking hell.” 

Trent climbed off Jordan’s lap and sat back in his seat, reality flooding back to him. “Am... I a bad kisser or something?” 

“What?! No, Trent. No! I’m just thinking about Dom and Lynn and the whole situation. You’re perfect, Jesus.” 

“So... what then? What do we do?” 

Jordan shrugged, running his hands through his hair. “Being around you is hard, but like, not being around you... it’s harder. I don’t know, I’ve never fucking done this before. I’m not a cheater.” 

“I mean, that’s not true, is it?” 

“Just put your seat belt on,” Jordan snapped, shaking his head and putting the car in gear. He sighed. “I don’t want to stop seeing you, Trent.” 

“But?” 

“But I can’t continue to do things behind Lynn’s back.” 

Trent sat there in silence, unsure what it was Jordan was getting at. 

“What do you want?” Jordan continued. “Like, is it just a shagging thing for you? It can be easily -“ 

“Nah,” Trent said quickly, cheeks heating up. “It’s not just about the sexual stuff.” 

“Okay, then. Okay. Why don’t we continue to see each other, yeah, but just like, getting to know each other? No kissing, no back alley blow jobs. Just get to know each other.” 

Trent didn’t really want to agree to that, but he knew he didn’t have another choice. “Like, as mates?” 

“Yeah,” Jordan said. “If you want.” 

They were quiet as Jordan’s car rolled through the deserted night time streets. Trent couldn’t help but notice that Jordan was still hard, thick and obvious against his thigh. When they were round the corner from Trent’s house he reached over and touched his fingers to it, one last attempt at having Jordan like this. Jordan just raised Trent’s hand to his lips and kissed it softly, placing it back in Trent’s lap. 

“Not now,” he said, coming to a stop at Trent’s house. “Not now.” 

Trent sighed. “Thanks for the McFlurry.” 

“Thanks for the company,” Jordan smiled, head tilted back against the headrest. “I’ll text you.” 

Trent got out of the car slowly, hoping Jordan would kiss him one more time or pull him into the back seat or do something, anything. He didn’t, though, because he was Jordan Henderson - cool, calm, collected. He’d said what he was going to do, and that was the bottom line. 

Trent turned around and waved before he closed the door, his heart fluttering around in his chest. 

** 

Trent’s phone lit up during third period the next day. It was a text from Jordan, and it said _don’t go too hard at chess club today, you little nerd_. 

Trent had to hide his beaming smile in his hands. 

_shouldn’t you be sorting someone’s pension?_ he sent back, typing under the desk discreetly. 

Jordan replied six minutes later. _I’m the boss. I just make sure everyone else is doing what there meant to_

Trent found Jordan’s spelling mistake endearing, and he bit down on his lip as he replied. _the boss? That’s hot_

Jordan didn’t text back till lunch time. _behave yourself_

Trent pushed his cheese toastie away, suddenly not hungry. _what if I don’t want to?_

_Trent._

_sorry. what you up to?_

_just looking over some annuities cases. are you being a good boy?_

_Mr Henderson! :O_

_Hahahahah_

“What you smiling at?” 

Trent looked up at Andy, who was eyeing him suspiciously, and locked his phone. “Nothing,” he said quickly, gathering his stuff and standing up. “I’m going to get something from me car.” 

“Bye then?” Andy grumbled, making a face at Jadon. 

Trent ignored them, shaking his head. He wanted to go and text Jordan in peace. 

** 

_good morning trenty. don’t forget to eat your weetabix and drink your milk so you get big and strong. and have a good day today cos your wonderful and you deserve it_

** 

_goodnight baby. sleep well._

** 

_what you doing tonight?_ Jordan texted Trent that Friday. Trent was at home copying his messy school notes to his study jotters. He was watching The Inbetweeners in the background and had the house to himself - his parents were out at some dinner, and the lads were meeting up tomorrow anyway. 

_doing homework. come over if you want no one’s here_

Trent stretched out on the sofa, smiling excitedly. He could barely concentrate on his books anymore, reading the same sentence three times before he gave up and began to pace the living room. Jordan hadn’t text back, and Trent wondered if maybe he’d said the wrong thing. He padded to the kitchen on bare feet and stuck the kettle on, listening out for his phone in the other room. Trent was going through the motions of making a cup of tea, dunking the bag in and out of the water, squeezing it against the mug, when the door went. He gasped, a thrill of excitement running up his spine, and went to answer it. 

Jordan was standing there, his hair wet and his eyes bright. He moved past Trent and into the house with a warm smile, smelling so good Trent wanted to bury his face in Jordan’s chest and never move. 

“Hi,” Jordan said, blinking at Trent expectantly. 

“Hi.” Trent answered, dumbly forgetting to close the front door until Jordan raised his eyebrows at it. “Hello.” 

Jordan laughed. “Where’s your family?” 

“At a dinner,” Trent answered, beginning to walk back towards the kitchen. “You want a brew?” 

“Love one,” Jordan said, following behind him. “Just black, please.” 

Trent brought another cup out of the cupboard and filled it with hot water, dropping a tea bag and a spoon into it as Jordan looked at the photos stuck to the fridge. 

They settled down on the couch with their cups of tea and Jordan told Trent about his week at work, laughing when Trent insisted on hearing the the office drama. 

“No, go on,” he said, laughing himself. “Tell me about Maura’s fifth holiday request, please. I like listening to you.” 

So Jordan did, talking animatedly about how the woman kept requesting time off and threatening them with union action if she didn’t get it. Trent laughed so hard tea came out of his nose at one point, and Jordan laughed so hard at that that he cried, and Trent couldn’t remember the last time he’d been as happy as this. 

After the laughter had died down Trent found himself gazing softly at Jordan and wanting to climb into his lap, tuck himself into Jordan’s neck, maybe fall asleep like that if he was lucky. Jordan was looking at him the same way, and Trent knew that if he just moved over, just slid into Jordan’s space, he wouldn’t say no. He couldn’t say no - 

“Didn’t you say you had homework to do?” Jordan said carefully, moving them past the moment. 

Trent put his mug down on the coffee table and picked up his books. “Just doing some note taking. It’s not massively important.” 

“I can’t believe you’re the kind of guy who takes notes on a Friday night,” Jordan teased. “It’s weirdly endearing.” 

“Endearing? Great,” Trent said, rolling his eyes. “Just what every 18 year old wants to be described as.” 

Jordan looked pained, then, opening his mouth and closing it again just as quickly. He sighed, putting his own mug down, and crossed his legs. “Tell me about kinematics.” 

So he did, starting off with the basics and getting deeper every time Jordan asked another question. Jordan seemed to be following what Trent was saying, but after a while he broke out in an enormous smile, and Trent gasped and pouted. 

“Don’t laugh at me!” 

“I’m not,” Jordan said, shaking his head, smile still firmly in place. “I’m not. I’m just - you’re so clever, and it’s so nice listening to you talk about this -“ 

“That’s patronising!” 

“I’m not trying to be,” Jordan said, trying his best to control his features. “Honestly. I’m genuinely just smiling because you’re so charming.” 

Trent dropped his pen, widening his eyes at Jordan. “Kiss me then,” he breathed, barely a whisper. 

“Trent,” Jordan said, looking pained again. “We spoke about this.” 

“I know, I know. But I want you. So much,” he said, batting his eyelids a little bit, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. 

Jordan watched, eyes transfixed on Trent’s mouth, and then he shot up off the couch and walked across the room, sighing noisily and scrubbing his hands down his face. “Show me your bedroom,” he said boldly. 

“Oh yeah?” Trent said, waggling his eyebrows. 

“No - not like that,” Jordan laughed, shaking his head. “Just show me around, no funny business.” 

“Fine,” Trent said, getting up like it was a chore to do so. “Let’s go.” 

Trent led Jordan up the stairs, pausing half way up and turning. Jordan was right behind him, his hand on the railing, his features soft and sincere. Trent leaned in and wrapped his arms around Jordan’s torso, putting his head against his neck and breathing deeply. 

“Just a hug,” Trent said, squeezing his eyes shut. “Just give me a hug.” 

It took him a second, but eventually Jordan relaxed into it, his arms wrapping around Trent’s back. He breathed deeply into Trent’s hair, the sound of his heart beating steadily filling Trent’s ears. They stood like that for a few minutes, neither of them wanting move. It was Trent who let go first, deciding that every minute he spent tucked into Jordan’s space was another minute spent torturing himself. 

He pushed open his bedroom door and watched as Jordan took it all in - his notes on the wall, his LFC bedsheets, the framed photo of him and Steven Gerrard from when he was 7. Jordan walked around slowly, touching his finger tips to the photo and Trent’s aftershave bottles and the pencils lined up perfectly on his desk. He approached the bed last, sitting down carefully on the end of it and looking up at Trent. 

“I bet sheets like these get you a lot of action.” 

Trent tried not to laugh. “They do, actually. Could be seeing a lot more action if you weren’t going out with my best mate’s mum, though.” 

Jordan’s mouth twisted sadly. “Yeah, fucking sucks, that, doesn’t it.” 

Trent said nothing. He looked at Jordan on his bed, thinking that he’d suit LFC red. Maybe in another life - maybe all of this, in another life. 

“My mum’ll be back soon,” Trent said. “Probably wouldn’t be easy to explain all this to her.” 

“Yeah,” Jordan agreed, getting up and putting his hands in his pockets. “You’re right.” 

“I’m always right.” 

“No you aren’t,” Jordan laughed, heading to the door slowly. “I am.” 

Trent and Jordan walked to the door in comfortable silence. Trent didn’t want him to go. He wanted to pull Jordan under his bedsheets, whisper secrets into his skin and kiss his mouth and make love to him.

“I’ll see you soon, hopefully,” Jordan said as he opened the front door. “Thanks for the cuppa.” 

“Drive safe,” Trent answered, a strange blend of sadness and hope filling him as he watched Jordan walk up the garden path. 

** 

“I think Hendo’s having an affair.” 

Trent choked on his beer, looking at Dom with wide eyes. He’d just approached their table with fresh round of beers and he looked troubled, his eyebrows pulled down low. 

“Why do you think that?” Andy asked. 

“Dunno. Just been a bit off, know what I mean? They’ve been less... touchy feely. She’s not saying anything but I know she’s concerned.” 

Trent stared down at the table, suddenly feeling very sick. 

“He’s a decent bloke, though,” Jadon said. “Surely not?” 

“Nah, I’ve got a feeling,” Dom said unhappily. “Something’s not right.” 

“Who would he be having an affair with?” Trent asked, willing his voice to stay level. 

Dom shrugged. “Could be anyone. Someone from work, someone he met when he was out, could be any fucker.” 

“You gonna pull him up?” 

“Maybe? I don’t know. Don’t know if my mum would like that.” 

Trent forced down another swig of beer. He thought about Dom and Lynn, about how betrayed they’d feel if they knew. He’d been friends with Dom since he was a little kid, and now this whole situation was threatening everything they’d been through together. And for what, Trent asked himself? For a shag. For a guy he thought was fit. _For Jordan._ Maybe Dom would understand, when it all came out - maybe if there was enough time between Jordan and Lynn breaking up, and Trent and Jordan getting together, maybe Dom wouldn’t mind. Maybe. 

“Well, listen. Not to change the subject,” Jadon began, looking around at their sad faces. “But I got an email this morning. I got into uni in Dortmund,” he said, his words coming out in one happy exhale. 

Trent watched as Andy leapt up and grabbed Jadon, pulling him into an almighty bear hug. Dom was up too, his face shedding the emotions it had been wearing seconds earlier, now the picture of happiness and pride. Trent felt a weird sense of jealousy that he’d never ever admit to; the horrible feeling that he wished it was him, and he couldn’t be happy for anyone else’s success until it was. He attempted to ignore those feelings for the time being, getting up with a smile that he hoped didn’t look like a grimace and pulling Jadon into his chest. 

“Amazing,” he said, patting his shoulder. “So amazing, mate. Congratulations.” 

“We need Prosecco,” Dom shouted, tearing off towards the bar before anyone could stop him. 

Trent settled uneasily in his chair. It was going to be a long night of celebrating, and he was going to have to be very, very drunk. 

Trent began to lose decorum some time after his fifth jäger bomb. 

He was sad, was the thing - sad that he hadn’t heard back from Cambridge, sad that he was making choices these days that would break his best friend’s heart, destroy him his family. The other boys were loud and full of life and Trent couldn’t muster the energy to pretend. He couldn’t stop thinking of Jordan’s smell and safe sense of control. He couldn’t stop thinking that everything felt better when they were together. 

He slunk out of the bar they were in some time after 11pm, finding a clean looking patch of curbside and sitting down heavily. It took him a couple of tries to unlock his phone but when he did he pulled up Jordan’s contact right away, hitting dial and holding the phone to his ear. 

Jordan didn’t answer at first, but he did on Trent’s second attempt. “Hello?” He said, whispering. Trent knew he was with Lynn, and his heart sank. Maybe they’d even been having sex, god. Trent felt sick. 

“Dom knows.” 

“What? Trent, _what?_ ” 

“He doesn’t know... about us. About me. But he knows about you. That you’re not being faithful. Good work,” he added bitterly, unable to stop himself. “Fucking useless, you are.” 

Jordan was silent for a beat. “How much have you had to drink?” 

“Perfectly fucking sober, thanks. Just fucking had enough, I think, _Hendo._ Had enough of you keeping me on the back burner, asking me to lie to my mates, having your cake and fucking eating it. And Sunderland’s a shit team.” He was being vicious and he couldn’t stop, his hands shaking. He wanted - something, some kind of reaction. He wanted Jordan to shout at him, to call it off or to leave Lynn, just something other than this limbo they’d been floating in. “And you’re just shit. Just fucking shit.” 

Jordan didn’t speak. Trent could hear him breathing, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he listened to it, willing tears not to come. 

“Trent? Grow the fuck up,” Jordan spat, and then the line went dead. 

Trent let out a noise like a wounded dog and let his face drop to his knees. He felt worse now than he did before, if that was even possible. He felt hopeless and alone and - 

“Trent?” 

Trent turned around. Andy was standing behind him, looking at him with wide eyes. “Was that... what did you mean, Hendo asks you to lie to us? What?” 

Trent got unsteadily to his feet. “Andy - I can -“ 

_”Are you fucking Dom’s step dad?!”_

“No - no,” Trent said, voice pleading. “Andy, it’s not -“ 

“You fucking snake,” Andy spat. “Is that who you’ve been texting all the time? He’s old, Trent. He’s ancient! Lynn’s like a mum to you!” 

“I’ve not shagged him!” Trent cried, his eyes filling up with tears. “I wouldn’t -“ 

“The fuck was that phone call about then?” 

“Andy, I’m begging you. Don’t say anything to him, alright? Don’t say anything. Let me tell him.” 

“Fucking _hell,_ Trent.” 

“Not tonight. Just not tonight.” 

Andy looked Trent up and down once, and then he turned and re-entered the bar, his head shaking as he went. Trent collapsed back down onto the curb and put his head in his hands, crying hot wet tears. What a mess. What a mess, what a mess, what a fucking mess. 

** 

Trent woke up with a heavy heart and a banging head. He was a ball of emotion, hiding under his LFC sheets and wishing he didn’t have to do what he was about to do. Maybe if he hid under the covers forever he could pretend none of this had happened. He’d never met Jordan, he’d never betrayed the Solanke’s trust. He lived in a world where all he did was homework, play chess, and watch Liverpool win things. He lay under his duvet until it grew hard to breathe, and then he made a little mouth hole for himself, reaching out and grabbing his phone off the bedside table. 

He had some texts from Dom asking where he’d got to and one from Jadon asking if Trent had Jadon’s wallet by any chance. There was nothing from Andy or Jordan, though, and Trent sighed around a swell of anxiety. 

Jordan picked up the phone on the third ring, but he didn’t speak. 

“Jordan?” Trent croaked, his voice small. “It’s me.” 

“I know.” 

“Okay. I’m sorry for the things I said last night.” 

“I’m sorry you said all that, too.” 

“Andy heard me,” Trent said in a rush, a sad whoosh of air. “Andy heard me talking to you. He knows, and he says I have to tell Dom.” Jordan was silent, and Trent nipped at his own thigh to stop himself from sobbing. “So, I’m gonna tell him. And then, I just think. Maybe it’s for the best. If we don’t see each other anymore. I think you should leave me alone.” 

“Trent -“ 

“So bye, I guess. I’m sorry it turned out like this. I’m sorry for the whole thing. No - I’m not sorry for how it felt. I really liked you, Jordan, okay? Doesn’t matter anymore, like -“ 

“Trent.” 

“But, you know. It is what it is. Good bye, Jordan.” 

“ _Trent -_ ” 

Trent hung up. He hung up and cried for a bit, and that made him feel slightly better. When he was all cried out, he went downstairs and made himself a cup of tea, which he took and sat beside his parents. They were both reading papers, a habit they’d refused to give up over the years, and the sound of the paper rustling was familiar and calming. He mulled over what he was going to say to Dom as he sipped his tea, repeating the words ‘I’ve been seeing your mum’s boyfriend’ over and over again in the hope it’d start to sound less awful. 

“You’re thinking very loudly over there, Son,” his dad said over the top of his paper. “Y’alright?” 

Trent felt his face crumpling, and he shook his head. “I’ve got to tell Dom something that’s going to upset him,” he said in a small voice. “He won’t be my friend anymore.” 

His mum and dad put their papers down, looking at him carefully. “Tell him what, Trent?” 

Trent swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I’ve betrayed him. I’ve done something behind his back.” 

“Is this something we should be worried about?” His mum asked, her hand on his thigh. 

“No,” Trent said quickly. “No, it’s nothing illegal or that.” 

“I’m sure he won’t stop being your friend. You’ve been together for years -“ 

“This time it’s different, though. It’s bad. It’s really bad.” 

“Then you’ll just need to face the consequences,” his dad said sadly. “Take it on the chin and just hope he’s able to see past it one day.” 

Trent nodded his head. “Yeah. I’ll just... yeah.” 

“Chin up, love,” his mum said, squeezing his neck reassuringly. “I’m going to the garden centre this morning if you want to come for a wander.” 

Breaking Dom’s heart could probably wait, Trent told himself as he smiled at his mum. “Yeah,” he said, finishing his tea. “I’d like that.” 

His mum made him push a trolley full of plants around for hours as she talked at him about the difference between evergreens and seasonals, plant food versus special soil, genetically engineered flowers versus wild flowers. It did a good job of taking his mind off of everything, though, and for that Trent was grateful. 

He helped her carry everything into the boot of her car and then they went to the centre cafe for lunch. His mum ordered them finger sandwiches and a pot of tea, slapping his hands away from an egg and cress before she could take a photo of the whole setup for Facebook. 

“It’s not every day your 18 year old son joins you for afternoon tea at the garden centre,” she said under her breath, standing up to get a good angle. 

Trent could feel his phone buzzing in his pocket but he ignored it, pouring out two cups of tea and loading up his plate with sandwiches. 

“So what is it you’ve done to Dom then, kid?” 

Trent’s stomach folded. He wanted to lie, to keep it to himself, but that hadn’t been working out very well for him thus far. He took a deep breath and said “I’ve been seeing his mum’s boyfriend.” 

Dianne looked at Trent, then at her sandwiches, then back at Trent. “Oh, you little bastard.” 

“Mum!” 

“Fuck sake, Trent -“ 

“It just happened. It wasn’t on purpose -“ 

“That is utterly ridiculous, Trent, and you know it.” 

“Yeah, well.” 

“You’re meant to be clever.” 

“Cheers, mum.” 

“I didn’t even know you liked blokes.” 

“Neither did I.” 

“How fucking old is he?!” 

“He’s 28. Doesn’t matter anyway, we’re finished now. Told him never to speak to me again.” Trent sighed sadly. “I’ve probably ruined his life.” 

“Ruined _his_ life? What about your life? You’re a kid. He should’ve known better.” 

“He’s not a bad person,” Trent insisted. “We just got along. Neither of us could fight it.” 

His mum sighed exaggeratedly. “Lynn’s going to hate me,” she said. “Fucks sake.” 

“You’re right, mum, this is really bad for _you_.” 

“Shut up,” she snapped, shooting him daggers. “Oh, Trent. Oh, my ridiculous little boy. When are you going to tell Dom?” 

Trent lifted a shoulder sadly. “After this, I suppose.” 

“Well, no matter what. No matter what, me and your dad love you, and we’re on your side. No matter how stupid you’ve been, we’re behind you. Dom’ll either come around, or he won’t, but there’s nothing you can do about that. You can’t control what he’ll think, so you just have to be truthful and honest and the rest will work itself out.” She put her hand over his and squeezed, and Trent felt his heart swell with love. 

“I love you,” he said, squeezing back. 

“I know. Come on, son. Let’s get it over with.” 

When they pulled back up to the house, Trent’s heart sank lower than it already was. 

Dom was sat there on Trent’s doorstep, staring into space. He looked as bad as Trent felt, the effects of his hangover visible in his pale face. Dianne patted Trent on the leg and smiled tightly at him. Trent wanted to climb into her lap and cling to her like a kid, have her tell Dom to go home, make all this go away. But he’d made his own bed and he had to lie in it, and the sooner he got it over with the better. 

“Dom,” Trent said as he got out the car. “Hey.” 

“Can uh - can we have a chat?” Dom said, getting to his feet. “Hiya, Mrs A.” 

“Hello love,” Dianne said. “I’ll get out of your way, boys.” 

“Do you want to come inside?” Trent asked, and Dom nodded. 

They marched slowly up to Trent’s room, like neither of them wanted to have this conversation, like they could prolong the inevitable. Dom hadn’t punched him yet, though, which Trent thought was a good sign. 

“So,” Dom said when Trent closed his bedroom door. “Uh. Hendo told my mum he’s leaving her.” 

Trent’s heart was beating so loud he thought he was going to have a heart attack. “Dom -“ 

“He told her he’s breaking up with her because he’s...” Dom paused, laughing sarcastically. “He likes you. What’s that about?” 

Trent couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think, his vision swimming. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “I’m sorry,” he croaked pathetically. “Is Lynn okay?” 

“What do you mean, is she okay? Her boyfriend is leaving her for an 18 year old. Do you - is it mutual? Has something happened?” 

“I - yeah,” Trent breathed, looking at Dom with wide eyes. “I like him.” 

“What do you mean you like him?” 

“I mean, I like him, I have feelings for him.” 

Dom sat down on the edge of Trent’s desk, colour draining from his face. “Are you kidding right now?” 

“I’m sorry, Dom, I never meant for this to -“ 

“Oh my god,” Dom said disgustedly, looking Trent up and down. “Oh my god, you’re disgusting. So what, you’re together? You and him had a nice laugh at our expense, have you?” 

“No, we’re not together. No one’s been laughing either -“ 

“When did it start?” 

“Christmas. When we made them cookies. He drove me home, I don’t know. I don’t know, Dom, it came out of nowhere.” 

“I feel sick.” 

“I’m sorry, Dom, I am. You don’t know how bad I feel, mate, you don’t -“ 

“Probably not as bad as my mum feels, Trent,” Dom said coolly. “Probably not as bad as her, like.” 

“I love you more than I like him.” 

“Do you? Doesn’t seem that way, seeing as how you did it anyway.” 

“I’m not seeing him. I won’t speak to him ever again, if you want. I swear to you.” 

Dom sighed, shaking his head and looking out the window. “I don’t know if I can ever trust you again, Trent. This is my family we’re talking about.” 

“I know. I understand. I don’t expect you to forgive me right away, or like, ever. Just give me a chance, yeah, to show you you can trust me. And I’ll do all your chemistry homework for the rest of the year.” 

Dom closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. “You’ll never speak to him again?” 

It broke his heart to do it, but Trent nodded. “If that’s what it takes, Dom. I’ll never speak to him again.” 

Dom sniffled, wiping at his nose, and stood up. “I’m going to go. I just need time, alright? Just need a bit of time.” 

“Okay,” Trent said, wiping at his eyes. “Okay. I’m so sorry, Dom.” 

Trent didn’t bother showing Dom to the door. He fell heavily onto his bed and cried, though if he was crying because he’d betrayed his best friend or because he’d never to speak to Jordan again, he wasn’t sure. His mum came to him after a little while, smoothing down his hair. 

“I’ve run you a bath,” she said. “You can be sad, alright, but after tonight, no more moping. Think about Cambridge. Think about all the things you want.” She kissed him on the head, and left, and Trent knew she was right. 

** 

Dom wasn’t at school the next day, nor the day after that. Andy and Jadon were quiet when Trent told them what had happened, but after a few beats Jadon said “I still love you, bro,” and Trent knew some things were going to be okay. 

Dom came back on Wednesday and dumped his physics books unceremoniously down on the table in front of Trent. “My homework, as promised,” he said. 

Trent looked at him, waiting - was this an olive brunch or a fuck you? The moment felt stretched out, lingering, painful, and then Dom smiled. It was a tiny thing, minute, and it looked as if it pained him, but Trent would take it. He’d take it with both hands. 

“No worries,” Trent exhaled, collecting up the jotters. “What would you like? Full marks or a nice reliable b?” 

“A b’s fine,” Dom said, shrugging. “Sancho! Did you find your fucking wallet or what?” 

Trent sat back as his friends chattered, the moment moving on, suspiciously easy, like maybe he’d gotten off scott free. He hadn’t, though. He’d lost Jordan. That was the price he had to pay. He took the bubble of sadness he felt and folded it away, tacked it down. He had no right to be sad about this.

** 

Trent half expected he’d hear from Jordan, but the contact never came. It made things easier, he supposed, since never speaking to him again entailed just... doing nothing. 

Still, it was hard - they’d gotten into a routine, had spoke every single day. Trent wondered how he was, where he was living. He wondered if Jordan missed him or if he didn’t care. Maybe he was back together with Lynn; maybe he had someone else altogether. 

Trent drove past Jordan’s office once, a week after they’d last spoke. It was a moment of weakness, and he didn’t know what he expected, but he couldn’t pick the Range Rover out in the car park and people walking by outside looked at him strangely and he drove off quickly, cheeks burning, throat tightening. 

** 

As the days passed, things got less and less awkward between Trent and Dom. It wasn’t exactly the same as it had been before - things were different, and the question of how things would be between Trent and Lynn hung in the air at all times. 

Trent kept his head down, concentrating on school and Liverpool. He was desperate to hear back from the universities he’d applied to, to have something to look forward to and focus on. So far it’d been radio silence, and as each day passed, Trent grew more anxious. 

Dom got the email that he’d got into ManMet on a Friday at lunch. He leapt up from the table and screamed, arms flailing as he shouted “I got in! I fucking got in!” 

“What’s the conditions?” Jadon said, leaping up happily and jumping around with Dom. “Fucking get in!” 

“A B in English!” Dom said. “Oh my god. Oh my god!” 

“Calm down, Mr Solanke,” a passing teacher said. 

“Just got into uni, Miss!” 

“Congratulations,” she smiled. “But still, keep it down. And phones away!” 

“I’m gonna go and phone my mum,” Dom said. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Congrats, man,” Trent said, feeling much the same way he did when Jadon got his offer. “That’s really amazing.” 

Dom grinned at Trent, and then he was off, phone already at his ear. 

“You’ll hear back,” Andy said, startling Trent. “You will. And it’ll be good.” 

“What?” 

“I can see you’re worried,” he explained. “Like, your face. You look -“ 

“I’m fine,” Trent said too quickly, pasting on a smile. “Honestly. I’m totally good.” 

Andy looked at Jadon and then nodded. “Okay, Trent.” 

Trent was about to insist that he didn’t care, wasn’t jealous, but then Dom was back. 

“Right boys, tonight - we’re getting fucking on it. We’re celebrating hard. I’m getting gear and everything.” 

“I’m there,” Andy grinned. 

“Me too,” Jadon added. “Fucking buzzing.” 

“Trent?” 

Trent looked over at Dom. “Yeah,” he said softly, trying to look excited. “Of course.” 

The bell sounded for fifth period, and Trent didn’t say bye as he picked up his bag and disappeared into the crowd of students, wondering how the fuck he was going to manage a whole night out feeling how he did. 

** 

Dom was wasted by 10pm, and the drinks just kept on coming. 

Trent couldn’t muster up the energy to match the other boys, and he largely spent the night sat down in the corner of their booth nursing the same pint. The boys kept shoving shots at him, which he took, but the alcohol only served to make him feel tired and slow. Everyone kept looking at each other, too, Trent could see. He could see that he was bringing down the mood, ruining everyone’s fun, and he couldn’t seem to stop. 

Andy and Jadon went off to sing Tom Jones on the karaoke and Dom sat down next to Trent, slapping his hand down on the table. 

“Trent, what’s wrong? You’ve got a face like a slapped arse.” 

“I’m just tired. So much school work and that, you know how it is -“ 

“Just because you’ve not got into uni yet, doesn’t mean me and Jadon can’t celebrate. Andy’s not moping around -“ 

“It’s not that,” Trent said, irritated. “Fuck sake. I mean, yeah, alright, it’s no secret I’m freaking out about not hearing back. But I’m happy for you, Dom, I am. I just... I don’t feel like myself.” 

“Why?” Dom asked coldly. “What could possibly be wrong with you, Trent?” 

Trent felt himself welling up and he pinched at his tear ducts, begging himself not to cry. It was mortifying, the way Dom was looking at him - like he was an attention seeker, a dick head. 

“It’s just like I said. I’m tired.” 

“You’ve been off for weeks. It’s fucking draining to be around.” 

“I’m sorry,” Trent said meekly. “Listen, I’m just going to get off. I don’t want to ruin your night.” He made to get up, but Dom grabbed his wrist, pulling back down to the seat with a thud. 

“Is it Hendo?” 

Trent wanted to lie and say no, but the words wouldn’t come out. He blinked wide eyed at Dom, swallowing anxiously. 

“I thought you just fancied him. It’s been three weeks. Why are you still sad?” 

Trent looked down at his lap, frowning. He opened his mouth but nothing came out, and then he wiped at his eyes, his heart racing. 

“You didn’t just fancy him? You had feelings for him? For my mum’s boyfriend?” 

Trent was crying then, unable to hold it in. He covered his face with his hands, shoulders shaking. 

“I didn’t think you really cared,” Dom said, his voice softer. “I thought you just wanted to shag him.” 

“I’m sorry,” Trent said, wiping furiously at his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m going to go now.” 

“What’s going on, boys?” Jadon and Andy were back, looking between them concernedly. 

“I’m sorry,” Trent said again, squeezing his way out of the booth. 

“Trent!” 

He pushed out of the bar, into the cold night, and took off into a jog for home, not stopping for breath once the whole way. 

** 

No one brought it up on Monday at school, and Trent was grateful. He was happy to pretend none of it had happened, that he hadn’t had a semi breakdown on a night that was supposed to be happy and good. He tried his best the whole day to act how he would’ve before; being overly chirpy with Andy and teasing Jadon and having private jokes with Dom. 

By the time he was home again he was exhausted, falling into bed and taking a nap before he’d even got his tie off. When he woke up it was dark outside and his mum was sitting on the edge of the bed, shaking him gently. 

“Trent? Dom’s here.” 

“Oh,” Trent said, sitting up and looking around. “What time is it?” 

“It’s just gone six, love. Shall I send him up?” 

“Yeah,” Trent said, swinging his legs out of bed. “Thanks, mum.” 

Dianne left and a couple of seconds later Dom appeared, hands stuffed in his pockets awkwardly. 

“You alright?” Trent said, taking off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. 

“Me and my mam... we don’t care about Hendo, Trent.” 

“Uh -“ 

“I mean, she’s sad, but she wasn’t in love with him. We were more sad about you, man, you’re like family. She was sadder about you.” 

“Dom -“ 

“And now you’re upset and I feel like shit. I didn’t even know you liked men, I didn’t know you were being serious. I thought he was just a nonce.” 

“Woa, woa. I’m 18.” 

“I know how old you are. But I thought he was just trying to have his cake and eat it. And you got carried away by it all. But that was wrong, wasn’t it?” 

Dom was looking at him with burning eyes, looking sincere, pleading. Trent nodded at him. 

“Alright. I just wanted to understand. I’m going to go.” 

“Oh. Okay,” Trent said, wrapping his arms around himself. “Dom?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m not going to like. Be like this forever. I’m sad now, but I’m going to be okay. And I know I need to apologise to your mum, and I know I’ll need to rebuild that trust. But -“ 

“It’s okay, Trent,” Dom said gently. “Really. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“See you, bud.” 

** 

That Thursday, it was Andy who got his acceptance to university. Trent cried in the bathroom at school, and then he gave himself a shake, and went to finish his day. 

** 

Trent was thrilled when Friday rolled around and school was done and dusted for the week. He planned to go home and order a big Chinese, do no homework, have a beer, a bath, and unwind. 

The house was empty when he got home, no one back from work, and Trent was thinking about having a wank when the door went. Cold callers did his tits in and he nearly ignored it until the letter box opened and Dom called “Trent? It’s me!” 

Trent opened the door, confused. “What are you doing here?” 

Andy was there too, his car parked behind Trent’s on the street. “We’ve come to get you ready,” they said, shouldering into the house. “Come on, shower,” Dom said, pulling Trent by the wrist towards the stairs. 

“What’s going on?” Trent asked, bewildered. “Dom? Are we going somewhere?” 

“You’re going somewhere,” Dom said, flicking on the shower. “You still got that suit from last summer?” 

“Yeah... back of the wardrobe.” 

“I’m going to get it. Get in the shower, hurry up!” 

Trent did as he was told, stepping under the spray and soaping up quickly. He’d already washed his hair that morning so he didn’t bother with that, instead flicking off the water and wrapping a towel around his waist. As he was brushing his teeth Dom returned holding his suit, producing a new red tie and tossing it at Trent. 

“Put these on, meet me in your room.” 

“You gonna tell me where I’m going?” 

“No.” 

“But -“ 

“Just get ready.” 

Trent shook his head and started putting his suit on. He had really been looking forward to his wank and his takeaway, and anywhere Dom and Andy were sending him that required wearing a suit couldn’t be good. He hoped he wasn’t being summoned to court or sent on a secret chess tournament. Maybe they were going to drive him to the admissions office at Cambridge and make him beg for a place. 

As he did his tie he walked across the hall to his bedroom. Andy was throwing things into a bag, and Trent frowned at it. 

“Am I staying overnight?” 

“Obviously,” Andy said, smirking. “Toothbrush?” 

“Bathroom. Obviously,” Trent shot back, straightening his tie. “Should I be nervous?” 

“What’s about to happen,” Dom said, coming over and putting his hand on Trent’s shoulder, “is because you’re my best friend. And life is too short. And I love you.” 

“Dom...” 

A car honked outside, and Trent’s stomach flipped. 

“Let’s go,” Andy said, zipping Trent’s bag up and tossing it over a shoulder. “Your carriage awaits.” 

Trent let them lead him downstairs. He pulled his dress shoes out of the hall closet, regretting that he hadn’t polished them before he put them away last time, and took a deep breath. 

“Ready?” Dom said, hand on the door knob. 

“I think so?” 

“Don’t say we aren’t good to you,” Dom said, finally opening the front door. 

Parked in front of the house was the black Range Rover. Leaning against the driver’s door was Jordan, one hand in his pocket, big grin on his face. He was wearing a suit like Trent’s, except he was wearing no tie and his top two buttons were undone. He looked unreal, his hair styled to perfection, the low lying sun making his skin glow. 

“Go get him, tiger,” Andy said from behind Trent, patting him on the shoulder. 

Trent looked at Dom. “What the fuck?” 

“We had a long chat, me and Hendo. There’s no point in you both being miserable.” 

“What about your mum?” 

“She’s seeing someone else already. Someone from work. Someone her own age, too.” 

“Dom... I don’t know what to say.” 

“Say I’m the best friend you’ve ever had and you owe me your life.” 

“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had and I love you, Dom.” 

They hugged, tight, as Andy carried Trent’s bag up the pathway and handed it to Jordan. Trent took a deep breath and walked up it himself, his hands shaking. 

“Hello,” he said to Jordan. “Been a while.” 

“Indeed it has,” Jordan said, nodding at Dom and Andy. “Cheers, boys.” 

“Have fun,” Andy said. 

“We’ll lock up,” Dom said to Trent. “Enjoy yourself.” 

Trent followed Jordan to the passenger side, biting his lip when Jordan held open the door for him. He slid into the seat - something he never thought he’d do again - and buckled up his seatbelt, waving over at the lads as Jordan got into his own seat. 

“What’s going on?” Trent asked. 

“Let me just say, first thing,” Jordan started. “I’m sorry. I fucked everything up from the beginning, Trent. I put you in a bad situation. I handled everything wrong.” 

“Jordan -“ 

“None of it was fair on you or Lynn or Dom. When you told me not to speak to you again, I didn’t want to over step the boundaries you were setting. I wanted you to know you’re just as much in control of the situation as I am. But then Dom said you were miserable, and I spoke to Lynn. She’s a lovely person, as you know. She said she wouldn’t hold it against you if you chose to pursue things with me. So, basically, there’s a charity dinner at Anfield tonight. All the players and the sponsors are going to be there. I’d like to take you, if it’s okay with you. But you can say no, and there’s no hard -“ 

“YES.” 

“Okay,” Jordan laughed, starting the engine. “Okay. Let’s go, then.” 

** 

They were greeted at Anfield like they were royalty. Trent had been here before, on a tour with school when he was 12, but it felt different now, ten times more exciting. 

Jordan gave the keys to the valet boy and lead Trent up the red carpet, glancing at him every could of seconds. 

“You ready for this?” He asked, not showing the slightest hint of nervousness. 

“Fuck yeah,” Trent grinned up at him. “Let’s do it.” 

They were handed champagne on entry, which Trent necked, feeling he’d need to be at least tipsy if he was to be face to face with his idols. 

“Don’t be nervous,” Jordan whispered in his ear as they headed towards the sound of people chattering. “Shoulders back, head up, there you go.” 

“Shut up,” Trent said, standing closer to Jordan’s side. “I can’t believe this. Oh my god.” 

“Here we go,” Jordan said, and then they were in the function suite. 

Trent’s jaw dropped. All around, mingling in expensive looking suits, were the players of his favourite club. There were plenty of others - unknowns, staff members, executives, but everywhere he looked, Trent saw another footballer and he didn’t think he could breathe. 

“Jordan. JORDAN. _There’s Virgil Van Dijk!_ ” 

“C’mon over here,” Jordan laughed, pulling an awestruck Trent away from Van Dijk. “Adam wants to meet you.” 

“Me? He wants to meet me? Jordan, I’m not ready.” 

“Yes you are,” Jordan answered, hand settling on the small of Trent’s back. 

“I’m not. I’m actually not. I’m -“ 

“Hendo!” 

Adam and Jordan hugged each other, greeting one another like old friends. “Alright, Ads?” 

“Not too bad at all. How are you?” 

“I’m great. Adam, this is Trent Alexander-Arnold. He’s been a Liverpool fan since birth.” 

“Trent,” Adam said warmly, stepping forward and holding out a hand. “It’s so nice to meet you. You been enjoying the season so far?” 

“I’ve been loving it - oh my god - this is such an honour,” Trent wheezed, squeezing Adam’s hand too hard. “You have no idea how much I’m freaking out inside. This is crazy.” 

Adam and Jordan laughed, and Trent felt some of his nerves dissipate. The three of them chatted for ages about university and the premier league, about the World Cup and the upcoming nation’s league. Adam was funny and down to earth, and he clearly loved Jordan, which made Trent’s heart burst. 

Eventually Adam had to move on, had other people to see and make small talk with, and when he was gone Trent turned to Jordan with wide eyes. 

“Holy fuck!” 

“C’mon, you,” Jordan laughed, leading Trent to the bar for another drink. 

Long Island iced tea in hand, Jordan and Trent were introduced to Van Dijk, and neither of them were able to compose themselves with much dignity. Virgil turned out to be a stand up guy, too, and he and Trent formulated the idea for a charity chess match as Jordan looked on with pride. The three of them had their photo taken together, and Virgil even followed Trent on Instagram. 

Trent pulled Jordan to the toilets with a shaking hand after that, giddy and flushed with alcohol. 

“Oh my god,” he gasped, clinging to Jordan’s lapels. “Jordan. This is insane!” 

“You’re so impressive,” Jordan said, wrapping his arms around Trent’s waist. “I forgot how clever you are.” 

Trent was about to lean in and kiss him when the door banged open and Lovren walked in, nodding at them and going to stand at the urinals. Trent and Jordan looked at each other with knowingly wide eyes, and then left, deciding it might not be appropriate to accost someone when they were mid urination. 

They were seated at a table with Adam and his wife and a couple of the stakeholders for dinner. The food was delicious, the wine sweet. Adam was _hilarious_ , and between the three of them the conversation was raucous. 

Between courses, Jordan kept a hand splayed on Trent’s thigh, and the steady weight of it made Trent feel floaty. He leaned into Jordan’s side, blissfully happy, hanging off Adam’s every word as he regaled them with tales of Messi and Ronaldo, Beckham and Rooney.

Between dinner and dessert there was a raffle, and Jordan and Alisson ended up in a bidding war over a trip for two to Santorini. Trent was semi hard when Jordan refused to back down, eventually tripling Alisson’s final bid and securing the holiday. It was so fucking sexy, how he took charge no matter where he was, and Trent wanted to rip his clothes off. 

After dessert - a ridiculously decadent chocolate bomb that made Trent moan and Jordan’s hand on his thigh tighten - Adam introduced them both to Klopp, and Trent felt that his life would never peak higher than it had in that moment. 

It began getting late and Trent was full of food, alcohol and happiness, leaning into Jordan’s neck and sighing happily. 

“It’s not over yet,” Jordan said, pulling Trent towards the main doors of the suite. 

They were met in the stairwell by a groundsman, who smiled at them gruffly. “Adam says not to bother you, so I won’t follow, but don’t make both of us regret it,” the man said, leading them down a series of corridors. “You’ve got fifteen minutes, boys, alright?” 

“Legend,” Jordan said, lacing his fingers with Trent’s. “We’ll behave.” 

“Alright then,” he said, stopping and holding open a door. “Fifteen minutes. Enjoy.” 

Jordan led Trent through the doors. Lights came on as they walked, and Trent’s heart began to pick up speed. “Where are we going?” He whispered, looking around at the walls he thought he vaguely recognised. “Where are we - oh my god.” 

They were at the players tunnel, and there, right before his eyes, was the iconic sign. Trent looked round at Jordan. 

“I love you. I don’t know if I’m in love with you, but like. I love you.” 

“Touch it,” Jordan grinned, releasing Trent’s hand. “Go on.” 

So he did, fingers brushing it softly, a shiver rolling over his body. And then he was off, through the tunnel, pushing out onto the field. 

He’d seen it a thousand times, but never here, like this. He was speechless; utterly speechless. He stood on his own, taking it in, breathing deeply. Maybe, he told himself, it wouldn’t really matter if Cambridge rejected him. Life would go on, and other things would make him happy - like this. He would be happy, even if he didn’t get what he wanted. The universe would give him what he needed. 

“What are you thinking?” Jordan murmured after a while, coming to stand by Trent’s side. 

Trent turned to him, suddenly, uncontrollably desperate to have Jordan properly, and now. He grabbed him and crashed their mouths together, licking into his mouth persistently, hands on his shoulders and on his side and pulling at his shirt. 

Jordan broke away, chest heaving, and pulled Trent into the lip of the tunnel, kissing him against the wall, his thigh sliding between Trent’s legs. Trent ground down on it, gasping into Jordan’s mouth, marvelling at the thickness of his thigh and the strength of his arms. 

“Please, Mr Henderson,” he said. “Want you so bad.” 

“C’mon,” Jordan said, taking Trent’s hand again. “Let’s go. Hotel. Now.” 

“What about the car?” 

“Valet can drive us across the road,” Jordan mumbled, leading Trent back the way they came. “I need to get you into the hotel. Like now.” 

Trent shivered at the words. He followed quietly as Jordan gave the valet his ticket and offered him an extra tip for driving it to Hotel Tia up the street. 

The pair of them slid into the backseat when the car came around, Jordan’s hand coming to rest possessively on Trent’s thigh again. The drive wasn’t long but it felt like it took forever, Trent’s tie felt like it was choking him. They got out the car and Jordan paid the guy, slipping him multiple twenties so casually Trent was turned on by it. 

Jordan carried both of their overnight bags into the hotel, and as he checked in Trent marvelled at the posh lobby, eyeing the art work and reading the breakfast policies. Jordan called over to Trent a couple of moments later, tilting his head towards the lifts. Trent walked over, pressing the button and tapping his fingers against his thighs as they waited. The doors dinged as they opened, and Jordan put the bags down to press the button for their floor. 

As soon as the doors were closed Jordan took Trent’s face in his hands and kissed him softly, teeth sinking into Trent’s lower lip and pulling slightly. 

“I missed you,” Jordan breathed. 

Trent’s reply was interrupted by the elevator doors pinging open on their floor. He followed Jordan to their room, watching as he slid the keycard into the door and held it for Trent to walk in. 

The room was lavish and well decorated, tasteful and classy, but there was no time to become an interior design critic. Trent threw his bag down and was on Jordan before the door had even closed, pressing up and slotting their mouths together. Jordan broke away and kissed the length of Trent’s neck wetly, licking at the tendons. Trent tilted his head back and sighed, thrilled when Jordan slid Trent’s suit jacket down off his shoulders. 

They were kissing again when Jordan deftly undid Trent’s tie and then started on his buttons, shivers going up Trent’s spine as Jordan’s fingers brushed against the skin of his chest. He moved the shirt down Trent’s shoulders and then pulled back, looking at him with dark, heavy eyes, his fingers skating over the bare skin on Trent’s arms. It was almost embarrassing the way goosebumps formed wherever Jordan touched, almost embarrassing the way Trent’s body reacted to this man. Jordan leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the round point of Trent’s shoulder, and Trent felt his knees wobble. 

And then they were kissing again, and Jordan’s hands trailed along Trent’s lower stomach, waiting for permission. Trent placed Jordan’s hands on the button of his trousers, urging him to remove them, and he did, sliding the zipper down carefully. Trent stepped out of the slacks and pushed his crotch into Jordan’s, his body thrumming. Jordan put a hand in the centre of his chest and pushed gently, ignoring Trent’s little whine of protest. 

“Tell me what you want to do,” Jordan said calmly, voice clear. “Tell me what you want.” 

“I want everything,” Trent said, unsure of what to do with his hands. “I want - I want to suck you off again.” 

“Okay,” Jordan said, mouth tilting up at one corner. “You know where it is.” 

Trent dropped to his knees and shuffled forward, his hand skating up the inside of Jordan’s thigh. He fiddled with the belt, willing his hands to cooperate with him, and pulled Jordan’s already hard dick out of his pants. Trent looked up at Jordan as he moved his hand up and down his dick, feeling extremely turned on by the fact that Jordan was fully dressed and he was in his boxers, visibly erect and straining towards the man in front of him. 

He blew Jordan slowly, like he was eating some delicacy he wanted to savour, and Jordan looked down at him the entire time like he was something precious, something spectacular. He sucked him off until finally, finally Jordan began to lose a bit of that composure, his breathing changing and his pupils expanding ever wider. 

“Stop, baby,” Jordan managed, his hand on Trent’s cheek. “Don’t wanna come like this.” 

His accent was thicker when he was turned on, and Trent blinked up at him in awe. “Will you fuck me, Mr Henderson?” 

Jordan swallowed, holding out a hand for Trent to take. “You want me to?” 

“Yeah,” Trent breathed, getting to his feet. “So bad. So fucking badly. Think of it all the time.” 

Jordan stepped away from Trent, as if to give himself room to think. He shrugged out of his jacket, removed his cuff links, started undoing the buttons on his shirt. 

“You ever fingered yourself?” Jordan asked, leaning down and rifling through his bag. 

“Er - no,” Trent said. “I can try. Shouldn’t be too complicated. I don’t -“ 

“Another time,” Jordan said, tossing something onto the bed and stepping out of his trousers. “I’ll take care of you tonight. On the bed.” 

Trent climbed up the bed, soft and large, and only regretted what they were probably about to do to the sheets for about 0.3 seconds because Jordan was there, naked and beautiful, climbing up his body and pressing in for another kiss. 

After a few minutes Jordan sat back on his heels and pulled gently on the waistband of Trent’s boxers, pulling them off, licking his lips at the sight of Trent’s dick curving up against his hip. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured as he moved his hand over it a couple of times. “You’re fucking beautiful.” 

“Sir,” Trent said, squirming against the sheets, skin hot. “Please.” 

Jordan reached behind himself for the bottle of lube he’d tossed onto the bed and drizzled some onto his fingers, moving them together to warm it up. Trent watched dry mouthed, petrified yet so unbelievably eager to do this, to have this man close. He couldn’t believe he was getting this chance again, too, and as Jordan lined up one slick finger, Trent felt tears prickling at the corner of his eyes, overwhelmed suddenly. 

Jordan pressed in gently, kissing the inside of Trent’s knee at the same time, and it felt weird but good, totally overwhelming yet frustratingly not enough, and he didn’t realise he was crying until Jordan retracted his hand quickly and moved so that his face was looming near Trent’s, panic all over his features. 

“Please say something,” Jordan begged. “Trent? Did I hurt you?” 

“No,” Trent gasped, holding Jordan by the cheek. “No, fuck. I’m just so happy. This is just so - I wanted this so much.” 

“You sure?” Jordan said, searching Trent’s eyes for a clue. “You sure, Trent?” 

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes.” 

“Alright,” Jordan said, pushing back in. “Okay.” 

He kept his eyes on Trent’s face as he fingered him, looking for signs, clues that Trent wasn’t into this, but he _was_. After a while Trent was squirming and whiny and Jordan seemed to know what he needed, his hand moving over his dick a couple times before reaching for the condom and sliding it onto himself, fluid and easy and undeniably in control. 

He positioned himself between Trent’s legs, lifting Trent’s thighs over his own and moving his hands wide over Trent’s hips. “Yeah?” Jordan asked, dragging his eyes up to Trent’s face. 

“Yeah,” Trent said, feeling calm suddenly, completely at ease. 

Jordan slid inside Trent like they’d done this a thousand times before, slow and steady at the first breach and then holding still, letting Trent adjust, letting him get used to the sensation of being full like this. There was a brief moment in which Trent worried that Jordan seemed to have done this before, and he felt jealousy flush hotly over his body, but then Jordan was moving, slowly and carefully, and it felt like nothing but also felt like everything, and Trent couldn’t focus on the jealousy anymore. 

Jordan couldn’t stop moving his hands over Trent’s body, touching him like he was precious, his hips moving back and forward leisurely. When Trent began to feel restless Jordan seemed to know, and he lifted Trent’s left leg, kissing his ankle, and shifted his hips just so - and Trent gasped, electric sparks blurring his vision. 

“Right there,” he said, bearing down as much as he could. 

“Right here?” Jordan asked, hitting the same spot relentlessly. “Yeah?” 

“Oh my fucking god - yes,” Trent said, back arching slightly off the bed. He grabbed handfuls of the bedsheets, eyes fluttering closed. This was the best he’d ever felt, no question. Nothing would top this moment, nothing. 

But then Jordan picked up Trent’s dick and started moving his hand up and down it in time with his thrusts, and Trent was moaning freely - he was talking, but he didn’t really know what he was saying, just letting his mouth run, and at one point he heard Jordan hiss “fuck,” and Trent looked up and Jordan was flushed and wild eyed, his hair falling forward as sweat released it from its gel hold, finally, finally, his composure slipping. 

Jordan closed his eyes and bit down on his lip, and Trent watched his spare hand as it started nipping at his thighs, and Trent knew Jordan was trying to stop himself from coming - and that knowledge, the thought that Jordan wasn’t in control right now, hit Trent so hard that he was coming suddenly, hot spurts over his stomach and Jordan’s hand, his breath caught in his throat, face twisted in a silent cry. 

He was floating on a cloud when Jordan folded himself over Trent and put his face in Trent’s neck, calling him a good boy as if underwater, snapping his hips harder and more desperately, chasing his orgasm. Trent knew Jordan was coming when he held still and bit down on the flesh of Trent’s shoulder, hard enough that Trent hissed in pain, Jordan’s stomach pressing against his sensitive dick adding to the wealth of sensations that were engulfing him. 

They lay breathing for a while, Trent running his fingers up and down Jordan’s ribs in a hypnotic rhythm, his skin so soft and damp with sweat. Jordan moved eventually and disposed of the condom, coming back with a hand towel from the bathroom and wiping at the drying come on Trent’s stomach. 

“There’s so many things I want to do with you,” Trent said after a while, his voice croaky. “So many things.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jordan answered, getting into the bed and pulling Trent under the sheets with him. “We can do all the things you want to do.” 

“I want to piss you off, just to see what you’ll do,” Trent said, hiding his face in Jordan’s armpit. “I want to play strip chess. I want you to meet my mum.” 

Jordan laughed. “You pissing me off isn’t going to be hard,” he joked, tickling Trent’s ribs lightly. 

“I feel bad, though. Still. About Lynn, and stuff.” 

Jordan sighed. “I think... with Lynn. We were both so lonely. And we worked because we didn’t want to be on our own. It wasn’t born out of passion, or a deep interest in each other, or some wild connection we couldn’t deny. And she knew that, and I knew that, and neither of us were very sad when it was all over. You feel bad cos you’re a good person, but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t pursue something important to you -“ 

“I said I felt bad, but not bad enough not to do this,” Trent clarified, looking up at Jordan’s face and grinning. “Maybe my karma will be that I won’t get into Cambridge.” 

“Bullshit,” Jordan replied. “Total bullshit. You’re getting into Cambridge.” 

“How do you know?” 

“Because you’re brilliant,” Jordan said, voice dripping with sincerity. “And if you don’t, we’ll get Adam to have Tom Werner send a persuasive email.” 

“Jordan!” 

“It’s not what you know, but who you know,” Jordan said matter of factly. “You deserve everything in the world, Trent.” 

Trent kissed Jordan fiercely, clinging to him tight enough that he thought he might fuse their bodies together. Maybe this whole thing between them would work, and maybe it’d crash and burn spectacularly. Maybe it’d be a fling and maybe they’d grow old together, but it didn’t matter either way. They were here now, and they were happy, and everything had a way of working itself out. Trent was realising that now. 

Jordan stopped kissing Trent after a while and reached over for the bedside phone. He consulted the list of numbers next to it and typed one in, grinning over at Trent. 

“Who you phoning?” Trent whispered, propping himself up on his hand. 

Jordan winked in response, and then started speaking. “Yes, hello. Room service, please - I was wondering if you happened to have any sugar cookies?”


End file.
